The Healer & the Hex
by LadyLash
Summary: HGSS - AU - Hermione is the new Mediwitch at Hogwarts, Severus is a Death Eater spy. Now, it's her job to keep him alive. Can she do it without losing herself in the process? A little angsty, a little lemony, a lot Snapey.
1. Down the Rabbit Hole

Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole

Hermione lay sprawled out on the thick grass with a heavy textbook in her hands, basking in the afternoon sunlight. A warm breeze danced through the dark green blades, stirring smells of dew and damp earth into her nose, the summer wind flipping back the corners of her pages. Not ten yards off, Harry and Ron flew side-by-side on their brooms, tossing an old quaffle back and forth through the air, their cheeks pink from a day in the sun. Their chatter was barely audible, but familiar and comforting as she completed the eighth chapter of Preventative Potions, Precarious Poisons by Dilys Derwent. She looked up from her book and watched her friends for a while, entertained by their boyish antics as Ron tried to throw the quaffle out of Harry's reach. She shouted up at them from her spot in the grass,

"Have you two spoken to Moody about your jobs at the Ministry?"

"Yeah, he thinks it's a good idea that we begin Auror training right away. We start in September, I believe. What about you? Doesn't Dumbledore have an office for you already?" Harry laughed, tucking the ball under his arm as he readjusted his glove.

Hermione proudly replied, "Well, yes. If all goes according to plan, I'll be the Assistant Mediwitch to Madam Pomfrey. But, _Professor_ Dumbledore hasn't informed the staff yet. I'll actually be the youngest mediwitch of this century."

"Of course you will," Ron rolled his eyes, "No one's better than you at charms and potions. No one's better than you at anything!"

Since the trio's recent graduation, they had been required to send out job applications all over the wizarding world that summer. Hermione had always hoped to work at St. Mungo's, but Professor Dumbledore had made her an offer that she simply couldn't pass up. With Voldemort still at large, gaining strength and followers every day, Harry had been strongly urged to continue on his Auror path. All three of them would remain Inner Circle members of the Order of the Phoenix, whose headquarters were being built on the Hogwarts grounds, as per Harry's instruction. In spite of Voldemort's growing threat, Harry claimed that the Order needed to assert their power in the wizarding world to show other wizards, and members of the dark side, that they would not back down.

"Will you have to work with Snape? Doesn't he make all of Madam Pomfrey's potions?" Ron's freckled nose crinkled and turned up in disgust at this thought. He feigned throwing up into his open palm. Hermione, undeterred, replied,

"Yes, I will. Professor Dumbledore said I would be working closer to _Professor_ Snape during the first year since my training will consist almost entirely of potions work."

With only a little apprehension, Hermione thought she might actually enjoy working with the world's leading potions master, even if he hated her with a burning passion.

"Merlin!" shouted Ron, "Snape? 'Mione, you must be joking!"

"Well," she replied curtly, "I'm not."

"He's such a worthless git!" Ron continued his tirade.

Harry half-nodded and half-shrugged in agreement.

"He's not worthless," Hermione spat, defending her new boss, "He is the most talented potions master of the century. Professor Snape is ten times better at potions than I will ever be. Even Potions Weekly said that he is the most advanced master that the world has ever seen," she waved the article unceremoniously in the air.

"He's a Death Eater!" The boys sang out in unison.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Severus Snape had been nothing but cold and heartless to her from the moment she walked into the school. But, Hermione was no fool, and now she thought she knew the truth about him. Not only was he the most talented potions master in the entire wizarding community, but he might arguably be the biggest player in the war against Voldemort. Dumbledore's letter to Hermione had been top-secret, of course. But, Hermione had a feeling as to why it was so important that someone take Madam Pomfrey's place immediately, and to work so closely with Snape.

She shook her head angrily at Ron, slammed her book closed, stacked it on top of the potions article and shoved it in her bag,

"I'm going in."

Apologetic, Ron called after her, "Oh, c'mon, 'Mione! Grab a broom and fly around a while." He tossed her the quaffle.

A cheeky, forgiving grin shot across her face as she tucked the ball beneath her arm,

"No! Not unless you make me, Ronald Weasley!"

Hermione turned and bolted down the hill, straight to the Burrow. With the boys at her heels and swatting at the ball, she galloped toward the door laughing and gasping for air. The boys followed at full speed, only to be stopped in their tracks by a worthy, red-headed adversary: Molly Weasley. Her hands were on her hips, and she had a scowl on her face that slowly began to fade into a grin. She shook her head, and beamed at them. She motioned for the trio to go inside,

"No brooms in the house! Supper is ready, you three."

Inside the Burrow, Ginny was already finished setting the huge table, the size of which only emphasized the closeness of the cramped kitchen. She smiled at Hermione, gesturing for her to take the seat to her right, next to Ginny and across from Arthur. Half-happy, half-reluctant, Hermione accepted the invitation and sat down. She loved Arthur Weasley, she really did, but that man's Muggle obsession was out of control. Hermione knew she would most likely be answering Muggle culture questions all through dinner.

The Burrow had changed since Fred and George moved into their flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. What was once a bustling madhouse full of the twins' explosions of chaos, now the Burrow was often silent. Once Ron was gone, the house would seem nearly vacant. Hermione didn't want to think about how quiet it would be when Molly was the only one left to live in it during the day. She hoped that the annoying ghoul who resided in the attic would make up for the lack of commotion.

Out of the oven came warm food that everyone had been eagerly waiting for. Molly's famous Stag Steak Pie floated to the table, followed by Full-Moon Potato Casserole and candied baby carrots. The food set itself down neatly on the table and Arthur began to serve himself. The group ate and chatted about everything from the upcoming Quidditch season to the oddly cool weather that had blanketed the recent evenings. They chewed and drank, enjoying each other's company, trying in vain to forget about the war that raged on outside their comforting walls.

"So, Hermione, I've been meaning to ask you a question," Arthur Weasley said with a mouthful of food.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione knew it was coming. Muggle questions were the only thing she and Arthur had in common.

"What is the hierarchy of automobile…cup holders?" He looked genuinely stumped.

"Cup holders? What do you mean?" Hermione almost didn't want to ask.

"Well, right now we are doing a study on Muggle driving etiquette, which is very complex mind you, and we can't decide who gets to use the cup holders for their drinks. The driver seems to get one every time, but as for the rest of the passengers, it's a complete mystery!" He shook his head, totally baffled by who had claim to what cup holder in the car. Hermione was totally confused.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I have no idea. Whoever gets to it first, I guess."

"Oh! Like a race. Good theory, Hermione…now, considering that, I wonder…" Arthur trailed off as Hermione tried to stuff her face as full as possible to hinder her ability to respond.

Finally, once the main course was over, Molly rose from her seat and uncovered a small, beautiful cake from behind the bread box.

Setting it down in front of Harry, she beamed at the black-haired boy,

"Happy 18th birthday, dear."

"Thanks," he replied, grinning at everyone and blowing out the bright blue candles. As the sweet scent of Molly's thick chocolate icing filled the air, Hermione knew exactly what he was wishing for. It was the same thing they were all wishing for: peace.

Hermione tried not to think about Voldemort as the dinner came to a close, but, as if everyone else had read her mind, the conversation turned to the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters soon after the cake was consumed.

Molly's face began to knot up with worry as Harry tried to explain the pros of the recent construction of the new Order of the Phoenix headquarters.

"…and it will need to be near the Forbidden Forest as well, for apparition purposes. I was thinking–" Harry was cut off by Molly's interruption,

"But, that's awfully near the wards, Harry. What about the young ones in Dumbledore's Army? Surely they couldn't survive an actual attack?"

"I think they can," Harry argued, "Dumbledore thinks they can. All the members of Dumbledore's Army will become official members of the Order of the Phoenix, since Dumbledore decided to incorporate the DA into our organization, and I believe they can handle stronger attacks and more complex spells than what you may think, Mrs. Weasley."

Harry's reply was stern, but reassuring. He continued,

"Dumbledore says that building the headquarters in plain sight will scare Voldemort. Tom thinks his power has forced us into hiding indoors or inside the Room of Requirement, but we must prove otherwise. If any of the other schools are going to side with our cause, we need to prove that we are actually able to stand up to Voldemort and his army. We have begun negotiations with the Salem Academy in the U.S. as well as Beauxbatons and the Coven of the Republic in Moscow. We believe that building a structure out in the open will bring these institutes closer to joining our side, where they otherwise would have remained neutral out of fear of Voldemort's retaliation."

"I was aware of Albus' talks with France, but I believed America was trying to remain stubbornly neutral," Arthur's last two words left his mouth with some contempt and the tiny kitchen filled with silence as he continued,

"Russia is an even bigger shock to me. I can't believe Dumbledore is foolish enough to think that the Coven of the Republic is anything but a hotel for Death Eaters!"

Mr. Weasley's strong insult did not surprise Harry. He and Dumbledore had been receiving similar comments for weeks. He tried to explain,

"I know. We thought Russia would side with Voldemort too, but I believe the Death Eaters have overstayed their welcome in the Coven. Apparently, Lucius Malfoy raped and killed Vladishka Virahslav, the headmaster's daughter."

Arthur and Molly gasped. Ron simply looked confused,

"Well, what did they expect? They let Death Eaters into the school and didn't think there would be any dead students?"

Molly's eyes were still full of shock as she replied to Ron's comment,

"I'm shocked that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would even take that chance. If there is anything that you should know about Russian wizards, it is that you should never cross one. Never. Especially Headmaster Virahslav. Once you are out of the Russians' favor, you are not allowed back in."

Harry nodded, "That's the exact idea we are counting on."

"I just hate that you and Ron will be so vulnerable, Harry," Molly said softly, "I understand that you boys want to run off and be Aurors as soon as humanly possible, but even the Ministry has eyes and ears on the dark side. At least I know my girls will be safe. Especially you, Hermione."

"Why me?" She said between bites of cake.

Molly looked at her with knowing eyes, "You will have Severus by your side all day and night. That man is arguably the most powerful wizard in that castle. Maybe the world!"

Ron mockingly choked on his cake, but Molly's glare was on him immediately,

"Ronald Weasley! Severus has done _more for this family_ than you will ever know. Use your manners."

She passed out her homemade pumpkin pasties and continued,

"When are you expected at Hogwarts for the faculty meeting, dear?"

Hermione, who had memorized the date by heart, replied, "Monday, but I need to go to Diagon Alley before then. I was going to wait and see if Ginny wanted to come with me for school supplies. Do you still need books, Gin?"

Beaming, Ginny replied, "Yes! It's been a long time since we had a girl's day out."

Hermione smiled back. She knew Ginny would jump at the chance to be free of Molly and her controlling nature during yearly shopping trips.

"Good. We'll leave early tomorrow then."

Molly looked wary, "Just be careful, you two."

That night, in her cot upstairs, Hermione lay awake with thoughts and feelings about her new position. She was excited about launching her dream career, and she couldn't help but think about her plans for expansion that both Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore had already approved. Hermione had shown the headmaster her ideas about creating three separate sections for emergencies, long-term patients, and an apothecary. She could see it in her head, clear and organized; nothing like the craziness that usually went on in the Hospital Wing. Making a mental note to herself to speak to Dobby about house elf medical specialists, Hermione decided that she was only anxious about one itsy bitsy, stubborn and surly obstacle – Professor Severus Snape.

 **So, this is a project I started for a friend. It's inspired by all the big classics that we love - Cloak, PProject, Lioness, etc. Technically it's my first fic, but I've written other little scenes here and there.**

 **I feel that it's necessary to include a warning here that the angst gets pretty dark sometimes, so here's your trigger warning. If you aren't okay with violence or unconventional sexual themes, back out now.**

 **Sorry if there's some things about it that you don't like. I'm still pretty much a noob. If you do like it - reviews are great.**

 **Stay Snapey.**

 **#LadyLash#**


	2. Nothing but a Pack of Cards

Chapter Two: _Nothing but a Pack of Cards_

Hermione woke the next morning, rubbed her eyes, and tried to adjust to the sunlight that was mercilessly creeping in through the window. Blinking in the garish beams, she fumbled to find her robes and wand. Casting a swift _Tergeo_ cleaning charm around the room and on her person, Hermione tied back her thick curls and headed to the kitchen.

Molly had already prepared breakfast. Warm corn muffins and hot cakes littered the table, begging to be smothered in syrup and ruthlessly devoured. The overwhelming smell of batter and butter permeated the room, floating through the house and successfully rousing the sleeping inhabitants. Hermione heard the boys stirring upstairs. Soon enough, the hot cakes would be the catalyst for a feeding frenzy. Sitting down at the table, Hermione grabbed a muffin while she still had the chance.

Ginny joined her after a few minutes, visibly excited about the shopping trip to Diagon Alley. Hermione was very excited too, she admitted to herself. She was glad that Ginny would be at Hogwarts for another year. Hermione was sure that having her best friend around would help her ease into the stress of working full time.

A thundering din erupted upstairs as red and black hair came bounding into Hermione's view. Harry and Ron attacked all the food that was left. Stuffing two muffins in his mouth, Ron mumbled a muffled "Good morning" and turned back to finish off his syrupy prey.

Hermione was disgusted.

"C'mon, Ginny. Let's leave before we get covered in Ron's breakfast," she said.

Ron emitted an angry, unintelligible noise which Hermione took as a retaliatory comment. She rolled her eyes at him and snatched the floo powder from the mantle.

"See you two in a bit," she said as she threw the floo into the hearth and disappeared into the green flames.

Ginny followed suit, smiling at the boys and screaming at the top of her lungs,

"DIAGON ALLEY!"

Ron jokingly recoiled at the screech. Harry was visibly shocked. He turned to Ron and asked,

"Why does she do it so bloody loud?"

"Well," he replied, "ever since she saw it spit you out in Knockturn Alley she's been pretty aggressive about it."

The candy wings of Bertie Bott's Dragon Pops, sold on a tiny wagon near the entrance of the alley, flapped wildly for Hermione, begging to be plucked off the pushcart. The smells of Every Flavor Beans were delightful and sickening at the same time. All of the sights, sounds, and smells were enough to take Hermione's breath away. The entire alleyway was saturated with magic and sorcery. Hermione watched as wizards, shopkeepers, students and parents bought and sold, came and went with beautiful, organized chaos; a ballet of economy and general bustle. She knew that she would always see Diagon Alley a little bit like a Muggle; a place of wonder and imagination.

Hermione reached into her robes and looked at the list that Professor Snape had sent to her, at the last minute of course. She would have had a much easier time gathering all the potions supplies if she would have seen the list beforehand. But, a sinking feeling in her chest told her that he knew that already.

She skimmed the top of the list:

Size 3 Copper Cauldron  
Dragonhide Potion Boots  
Winged Familiar  
Griffin Bone Gathering Basket

Ginny walked up behind Hermione and stared at the two-page-long list,

"Why does it say that you'll need a winged familiar? What about Crookshanks?"

"I think the professors all communicate exclusively by owl, or Fawkes in Dumbledore's case, I suppose. I left Crookshanks with Mum and Dad. He'll take good care of them. I'm just glad the headmaster sent my galleons in advance. Those boots won't be cheap."

"None of it will be cheap!" Ginny sympathized, "A _copper_ cauldron, and _dragonhide_ boots? That's a fortune by itself. Not to mention the rest of the list of books and potion ingredients."

"I know," Hermione groaned, "Let's get to it."

"Well, the apothecary is right here at the front if you want to get the potions supplies out of the way," Ginny pointed toward the dark potions shop and reached for the door. But, as Ginny began to twist the knob, her body stiffened and she began to back away slowly.

"What is it?" Hermione asked her.

Ginny's eyes slanted into livid slits, her gaze full of hatred and malice,

"Malfoy."

Lucius and Draco Malfoy slid through the shop door, their house elves' arms full of purchases. Lucius' eyes locked onto Hermione's as he closed the distance between them. His presence was suffocating and heavy, and his voice was smooth and elusive enough to make Hermione feel as if she were drowning in its abyssal depths.

"Madam Granger," Lucius paused and returned Ginny's hateful stare with mutual loathing, "and Miss Weasley, I see. My, my, this really is a _fortunate_ surprise."

"Nothing fortunate about it, Malfoy," Ginny spit at his feet. Hermione stepped between her and the blond Death Eaters.

Lucius stepped away from the spit on the ground as if it were some type of disease and turned to Ginny,

"Good to see your manners still match your family's _status_."

Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at him.

"You filthy fucking mudblood!" Draco barked, grabbing Hermione by the chin, "How would you like to come home with us and be my new toy?"

"Draco, hold your _tongue_ ," Lucius whispered a warning.

Hermione ripped her face from his hand,

"Better listen to your daddy and piss off, you inbred little nancy, or I'll use your skin for my new dress robes."

"You'll what?" Draco spat, engulfed in his own rage, "There's not enough power in that wand to kill a pixie!"

"Care to find out?"

Hermione raised her wand tip until it brushed his pointy nose. Only then did he look to his father for some sort of help. _Pathetic_ , Hermione thought. She was about to yell _Stupefy_ when a silky darkness closed like a curtain between her wand and the youngest Malfoy. Hermione felt the air being sucked out all around her like a cold vacuum. Silence smothered the shop entryway, as if time itself yielded to –

"Severus Snape, how kind of you to join us," Lucius hissed, "You're just in time to help us _break in_ our newest plaything. Isn't she… _sweet_?" His voice hung like venom in the quiet alley corner.

Deep black eyes cut Hermione's confidence with ease. She could barely breathe as Snape pinned her with his gaze, fixing her on the spot. In seconds, too quick to tell for sure, something in his hard, unforgiving face changed. It softened, slackened, as if to apologize. His ivory skin smoothed over his brow as his eyes studied her face. As quick as it had come, the softness dissipated and Snape's visage hardened once more as he shattered the heavy silence between them,

"Madam Granger, put your wand away before you lose your surprisingly convenient position at Hogwarts. Besides, we wouldn't want to tarnish that… _amiable_ reputation."

If Lucius' voice was dark and thick, Snape's voice was an infinite void. Each word slipped into her ear, hypnotizing her into dumb submission. It carried threats and protection at the same time; a melodious warning, a succumbing duskiness that made Hermione mindlessly pocket her wand.

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione replied, still glaring at Lucius.

A tiny smirk flashed across Severus' lips as he turned to Lucius Malfoy,

"I'm afraid you will have to _play_ with the new assistant mediwitch some other time, Lucius. If you will permit us?"

Snape pointed towards the apothecary's door behind the Death Eaters. As Lucius bowed out into the alley, he winked at Hermione and smiled,

"See you all too soon, _pet_. Good day, Severus."

Then, in a flash of dark smoke, the two blond men and their elves were gone.

Professor Snape turned his full attention to Hermione, who was visibly shocked and embarrassed after the ordeal. He studied her for a moment, as if he was looking for something. She thought she could feel him start to speak, but he simply apparated just as gracefully as he had arrived.

"What the bloody hell was that all about? No one talks about my family that way! He's going to pay for that, the little prat," Ginny was fuming, helpless to her turbulent anger, "Fucking Death Eaters everywhere! If I could have given that bastard a piece of my bloody mind… _See you soon?_ What the hell does that mean?"

"Look, it's alright," Hermione turned to her, "Come on, let's just get inside."

Ginny followed Hermione into Slugg & Jiggers Apothecary, still muttering curses under her breath about Lucius Malfoy and his offspring. She watched Hermione shop, pulling dusky bottles from shelf after shelf and silently wondered why her best friend, who was usually so level-headed, would be the apprentice to a known Death Eater. Why had Dumbledore hired him in the first place? There had to be more to it. The way he had stared at her in the alley made Ginny uncomfortable. Snape had looked…hungry, and a little surprised. Ginny decided, in secret to herself, to watch him like a hawk. If she could survive Tom Riddle, she could handle his lackey.

"Ginny!" Hermione called from the front of the store, "Are you ready to go?"

"Coming," Ginny replied, very much ready to be away from the crate of Mermaid scales, whose dank, fishy smell was making her slightly ill.

The two girls continued their journey down the alley, picking up items from the stores as they went. Hermione's last purchase, aside from her recipe book and healing texts, was her winged familiar. She turned to Ginny,

"I'll meet you at Whizz Hard Books up the way. I need to go to Eeylops' and get my owl, but then I'll see you there."

"Okay! I'll see if I can find that advanced potions book you were talking about earlier," Ginny waved to her as she turned to walk up the alley.

"Thanks, Ginny."

Hermione headed toward Eeylops' Owl Emporium, her coin purse feeling undoubtedly lighter from her purchases. _Just a few more stops and I'll be able to start saving again,_ she thought to herself. She had always wanted to buy her parents a house closer to the city where they worked. They had spent so much money helping her go to school and she wanted to pay them back somehow.

She pushed open the wooden door to the pet shop and tried to make out the different birds in all of the cages. It was very dark, for the owls' comfort more likely, and Hermione had a little trouble adjusting to the dim light. The squawking was terrible. If it was fifteen birds or fifty birds, Hermione couldn't tell. Through the din, she made her way past cages of big Great Grey owls and tiny Elf owls like Pigwidgeon. In the back of the store, a burly shopkeeper was disassembling a rather large cage. The sign next to the cage read: _Feeders._

"Excuse me," Hermione asked, "What is a feeder? Is that a breed?"

The man turned around, looking relieved to be able to talk to a customer instead of deal with whatever was inside that cage. His mustache twitched as he grinned at Hermione,

"We feed them to baby hippogriffs, of course."

"Feed them to hippogriffs?!" Hermione was suddenly livid, "How much are they?"

"Well there's only the one left there. These aren't really for sale, miss," the shop keeper shrugged, looking confused, "But, we have a big selection of other birds that are –"

Hermione cut him off,

"I'll give you five galleons for whatever is in that cage."

His big, hairy eyebrows raised in surprise at her offer. The man scratched his head and simply moved aside,

"If you want that beast, you're going to have to get him yourself. He has scratched me up enough today."

Hermione cautiously approached the cage. She peered in, not really spotting any movement at first. Then, in the corner under a pile of shredded pieces of _The Daily Prophet_ , she saw a little ball of black feathers and big black eyes staring up at her. Mustering up some courage, Hermione rested her finger just inside the cage.

The owl waited. It stared at the new, hairless finger with hesitation. Then, it stared at the giant shopkeeper. Finally, its eyes settled on Hermione again and, as if not wanting to take any chances with the big, furry man, hopped decidedly over to her finger. As Hermione lifted him out of the cage, the owl squawked furiously at the worker, glaring at him with unmistakable contempt. Hermione matched his glare and shoved her galleons into the hands of the shopkeeper, who looked shocked and relieved all at the same time.

As she left the shop, Hermione turned to the owl and whispered,

"You're not going to be hippogriff grub today."

Hermione walked quickly over to Whizz Hard Books to meet with Ginny. She went in the shop and looked around for her friend's tell-tale red hair. Suddenly, she saw a waving hand shoot up from behind the stacks as Ginny's face peeked out to greet her. She waved Hermione over and pulled a book off of the shelf,

"Look! I finally found it!"

"Oh, wow," Hermione gasped as she took the copy of _Advanced Potions: Volume III, Not for the Faint of Heart_ from Ginny's hands, "Thank you so much! I searched everywhere for this. The school doesn't even keep a copy at the library."

"Yeah, the clerk here told me that it was the only one he's ever seen."

"Did you find all your school texts?"

"Yes," Ginny nodded, "Shall we go to the counter then? Wait, where's your owl?"

Hermione lifted her hair to show Ginny the tiny owl.

Ginny gasped,

"Merlin! I can't believe you had the galleons for him! I haven't seen an Ember owl in person before."

"No, no, he wasn't expensive. He was a feeder. They were going to feed him to baby hippogriffs," Hermione stroked the side of the owl's head as he leaned into her finger.

"Well, they could have tried, I suppose! But, that's an Ember owl if I've ever seen one. Pretty destructive little buggers."

The owl looked up at Hermione, pleased to be petted, and drowsily closed its eyes to sleep. Its feathers barely brushed her earlobe as he sat on her neck. Hermione asked,

"Ginny, what's an Ember owl?"

"It was used as a sort of fire-starter before the wizarding world became more unified. Wizards were out on their own mostly, and no one had the luxury of owning a second brewing wand. So, they got these little Ember owls to keep the temperatures regulated on potions. Quite interesting, really."

"Did you say 'fire,' Ginny?" Hermione was not willing to send flaming mail all over Hogwarts. She peered down at the owl apprehensively.

"Yeah," Ginny said matter-of-factly as she gathered her books and strode over to the counter.

Hermione followed Ginny to the check-out counter and stood in line behind her. She started to whisper something about the possibilities of charred envelopes but suddenly, over Hermione's shoulder, she saw a familiar figure smile at Ginny.

"Hello, Ginny! Hermione, nice to see you," a deep, friendly voice made Hermione turn around so that she could see who had greeted them.

Remus was beaming at her. Hermione smiled back and gave the werewolf a hug,

"Professor Lupin, how nice to see you, too! I thought you would be at the castle already."

"Oh, please, it's Remus, surely. I just had to get a last minute text for class. I am so excited that you are joining the staff, Hermione."

"So am I, Remus," Hermione grinned.

"I can imagine. So, are you prepared to start working with _Severus_? Dumbledore tells us you'll be his understudy to train in healing potions," Remus raised a knowing eyebrow at her.

"Yes, I think so. I'm certainly looking forward to the challenge."

"Well, if you're looking for a challenge, I think you found him," Remus laughed, "Nice Ember owl, by the way. Almost didn't see him there."

Remus reached out a finger to stroke the owl, but the bird flapped its tiny wings and squawked wildly, trying to get away from him.

Remus' face fell as he put his arm back at his side,

"He knows what I really am, I suppose."

Ginny gave him a half smile and Hermione reached out to put a hand on his arm, sympathizing with the werewolf. He looked down at her hand and took it in his for a moment, his eyes catching hers with a look that Hermione couldn't place, until the clerk called "Next!" and she turned to purchase her books.

"See you in class, Ginny. I'll…" Remus paused, smiling slightly, "I'll make sure there's a place for you on the train, Hermione. We have much to discuss about the Order, you know."

"Yes," Hermione replied, "Of course. Good to see you, Remus."

Ginny laughed a little as they exited the shop,

"A place for you on the train? Was he coming on to you?"

"Stuff it, Ginny. He's our mentor," Hermione reproached her, blushing profusely and walking a little faster.

"I'm just saying…" the red-head threw up her hands for faux-protection from Hermione's wrath.

Hermione glared at her but failed to hold back the smile from her face,

"Oh, come on. Let's finish this bloody list and go see Fred and George."

"Good idea."

The witches spent the better part of the afternoon in the Madam Malkin's shop, trying to find appropriate potions wear for Hermione and dress robes for Ginny. Hermione picked out new dress robes too, _just in case_. It confused Ginny when Hermione referred to things as "Just in case" items. She always chalked it up to Hermione's Muggle upbringing. She just couldn't understand how anything could happen without prior knowledge ahead of time. Someone would send an owl or just floo in and that would give them plenty of time to prepare. Ginny had never made very good grades in Muggle studies, much to her father's extreme disappointment.

Ginny and Hermione made their way down the alley toward Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. They could see Fred through the window, pawning off spinning and sparkling tricks to young witches and wizards looking for a love potion or revenge on a bully. The entire shop was full of noise and bright energy. Hermione thought it was wonderful. Ginny thought it was annoying.

"Fred," Ginny shouted, "Over here, you prat!"

He scooped her up in his arms and spun her around with ease. She protested, laughing the whole time,

"Put me down! Merlin's beard, put me down!"

Hermione laughed at their greeting. She hugged Fred as well and followed him into a cloaked and warded room in the back of the shop. The employees looked a little distressed at having to manage the chaos without at least one of the creators present as Fred passed them to enter the office.

Inside the room, Hermione was shocked at the sound, or lack of sounds, really. She thought the din just on the other side of the wall would surely make a conversation difficult if not impossible. But, inside the office, navy walls and pale cream furniture rested serenely on oak floor boards, as if the twins were about to have tea with the Minister of Magic. In a way, it almost reminded Hermione of the Burrow. It was a control room of sorts; full of powerful magical energy, but calm and cozy at the same time.

The appearance of the room made Hermione take a better look at Fred, and George who had been sitting in the office when they walked in. The two barmy boys had turned into calm, serious, almost dashing, young men. Their matching sweaters were pulled tight across their broad shoulders and their jawlines were as sharp as a blade. Piercing blue eyes and full, naked lips were the eyes and lips of experienced wizards, not the same eyes that Hermione had seen before. They looked tired, but still fierce. It was as if they had experienced a life so different and difficult over the past three years that Hermione would never be able to understand.

Fred handed her a cup of tea. It was silent for a while but George finally asked her,

"Are you excited to be on Dumbledore's staff, Hermione?"

It took her a second to respond,

"Yes…yes, I think so."

"What do you think about the new Order Headquarters?" George inquired sharply, a hint of anger in his voice.

Hermione looked at him confused. He continued, his tone almost violent,

"You know the one. It's the bloody _shed_ on the front lawn of Hogwarts, with Harry Potter stuffed in it like sweets in a great big, _bleeding piñata_!"

"George," Fred said softly.

"Don't _George_ me!" George spat back, "They think that will scare him away, do they? What bollocks!"

"So, I take it you aren't fond of Harry's plan?" Hermione looked down at her tea, letting her assumption hang in the air, shocked at George's radical behavior.

The silence returned to the room. Hermione looked at Ginny as if to ask, _What's up with George?_ Ginny shrugged slightly, unsure of what to say.

George sighed,

"I'm…I'm sorry. I just don't think it was the right move."

Fred stepped in,

"I think what George is trying to say is that we've… _seen_ some things here in the alley that has made us reconsider our previous passive attitudes toward the war."

"What _things_ , Fred?" Ginny asked.

"Just Death Eaters and their nighttime _activities,"_ George said tersely, "Just how they slaughtered a little girl in Knockturn Alley earlier this summer, or maybe when they _raped_ Gladys Fillborn right out in the open for everyone to see!"

"The fourth year?" Ginny asked, looking queasy.

"Yeah," Fred whispered.

"Why haven't we heard about these attacks?" Hermione asked quietly.

"One guess as to which rich pure-blooded family bought the rights to the Prophet," George raised his eyebrows.

"Malfoy," Hermione couldn't believe that he was controlling the media.

The heavy quiet crept back into the room. Hermione felt the first hint of tears slip into her eyes. She jumped a little when George came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. He stood there for a while, looking more tired than ever, and Hermione tried to understand. She was tired too. She wanted the war to be over tomorrow so that her family, her friends, and her life could go back to normal; whatever _normal_ was.

"I had no idea," Hermione said softly, "We saw Lucius in front of Slugg & Jigger's today. If Severus hadn't been there, he probably would have taken us with him…or worse."

"Snape? Snape is just like the lot of them! Don't let blind old Dumbledore fool you, Hermione. He's a Death Eater, _by choice_ ," Fred was the one with the temper now, "That's why we've taken matters into our own hands. We trust Harry and all that, but if worse comes to worst, we'll kill Voldemort ourselves, with or without bloody Harry Potter."

Ginny's eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn't grasp the fact that these were the same boys who she had grown up with at the Burrow. They seemed so different, so hardened.

"Show them, George," Fred pointed to the bookshelf behind their desk.

George paused, reluctant to comply. Then, pulling out his wand, he began to mutter spell after spell, and the bookcase began to dissolve. Behind George, a whole new room showed itself to Hermione. She heard Ginny gasp. The room was small, but it was full.

Full of weapons.

Hermione recognized the familiar shapes and sizes of bombs and missiles, wands and guns, potions and bottled flames that spurted and sparked angrily. She knew the difference between toys for fun and weapons of war, but it was hard for her to believe that the twins she knew so well had turned from inventors to men of action.

"George…" Ginny stood up slowly, "Fred, what is all this?"

"Test prototypes. We've been working on them ever since we heard what Harry was doing with the Order. They are going to be like sitting ducks out there. They don't stand a chance against the kinds of monsters we've seen…" Fred paused and George picked up where he left off,

"And those are just the ones that are in the alley! Can you imagine what they do behind their own closed doors? We're not going to let Dumbledore use Harry as bait. We need to start doing as much damage to them as they are doing to us."

"I agree," Hermione blurted out, surprised at her own words. She glared down at her tea, "And I think Harry will too."

"Do you?" George asked sarcastically.

"Honestly, yes, I do. He's not looking to bait Voldemort. He's looking to kill him, just like you are. I think he'll take any help he can get. You should come to the first Order meeting. He needs you, even if he doesn't realize it yet."

George nodded slowly,

"We'll think about it."

"Give our best to Mum, Ginny. Stick close to Hermione at school. Don't trust anyone, do you hear?" Fred told his sister, almost tearful.

Ginny nodded, her face buried in Fred's chest.

"Be careful, Hermione. If you need help, you know where to come."

"Thanks, George."

The wizards exited the office, Ginny waving goodbye to the twins as she left the shop, still visibly upset. The witches silently walked back down the alleyway, arm in arm. As they arrived at the floo point, Hermione hugged Ginny and told her she would see her at the house. Through the green flames, Hermione could see tears streak down her friend's face just before she was pulled back down into the hearth of the Burrow.


	3. A Grin without a Cat

Chapter Three: _A Grin Without a Cat_

Hermione's night was full of dreams as she tossed and turned in her cot at the Burrow. She dreamt about the twins and their arsenal. She dreamt about Death Eaters. She dreamt about her parents. But, one dream plagued her through the night, playing over and over in her mind, and when she woke up it stood out in her mind like a fresh wound.

In the dream, she was running down a long hallway. All the paint was peeling and rotting away from the windowless walls. Stained carpet and dim torches hindered her view as she tried to make out a figure up ahead. She could tell from the broad shoulders that it was a man and he was trying to run from her. She chased him, not really knowing why she was chasing him. But, as she was about to reach out for the tail of his cloak, he turned to face her. Then, standing there in the hallway before her was Lucius Malfoy, just as he had been in the alley. He stared at her, wand drawn at her face, for what seemed like an eternity. Hermione reached for her own wand and was immediately caught by a rough, warm hand. With his free hand, her captor flicked a finger at Lucius, turning him into a mixture of dust and smoke. Then, he covered her mouth, stopping her from screaming, and dragged her into a pitch-black room, where upon entry, she would wake up, sweating and in tears. The only thing Hermione knew about her captor, or savior, was that she could feel his heart beat hard against her back and that he smelled very strongly of Wolfsbane. The earthy scent, like evergreen and freshly cut grass, still lingered in the air as she woke, and faded before she could really breathe it in.

As she opened her eyes, disturbed by the last of her recurring dreams, Hermione was disappointed to see that dawn was already creeping slowly in through her tiny window. She was exhausted from her restless night. Gathering her luggage and the owl, she sluggishly dragged her body down the stairs. The owl was sleeping soundly in the cage that Molly had lent her, and Hermione couldn't help but writhe in jealousy. Worst of all, she was late. She would have to skip breakfast if she wanted to make the faculty train to Hogwarts.

"Oi, are you trying to leave without saying goodbye?" Ron's voice startled her as he ducked out from the kitchen in his sweat pants.

Hermione grinned,

"No, silly, of course not. Just getting ready. I'm quite late, you see."

Hermione hugged him, trying to take in the scent of his skin, having to bury her face in his neck in the process. But, Ron didn't smell like Wolfsbane. He smelled like buttered biscuits and sweat. As Harry came down the stairs, he saw their hug and gave a wink to Ron. But, as Hermione went to hug Harry just as fervently, Harry could see Ron's face fall and gave him a sympathetic shrug. Harry was another let down, because the only thing Hermione could smell was chocolate and shampoo.

"Well," Hermione said, defeated, "I'm off then."

"Better wait for Ginny and Molly though. They'll never forgive you if you leave now," Harry told her.

"That's for sure," Ginny called from the top of the stairs, "I can't wait to come see you in your brand new office. I bet it's lovely." Ginny hugged her friend tightly.

Molly joined them shortly and began to fidget with Hermione's robes,

"Please be careful, dear, and try to keep an eye on Ginny. No telling what mess she'll get into without her brothers there."

"Mum…" Ginny whined, rolling her eyes.

"I will definitely be with her whenever I get the chance, believe me. I'll probably be pretty lonely," Hermione reassured Molly.

"We'll be there soon," Harry said, "Don't forget about the Order meeting on the first."

"I won't," Hermione smiled, "See you all soon! Molly, thank you so much for everything."

Molly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she handed Hermione a sack of baked cinnamon cookies and said,

"Of course, dear, now off you go, and be sure to give Albus our very best!"

With that, Hermione vividly pictured Platform 9¾ in her head, closed her eyes, and apparated.

As she climbed onto the train, Hermione was greeted warmly by the professors who had already arrived. Professor McGonagall stopped her, shook her hand and told her that Remus was a few compartments back,

"I think he wanted to speak with you, dear."

"Thank you, Profes –"

"It's Minerva, if you would be so kind," she cut Hermione a playful stare, "My students are the only ones allowed to make me feel old."

Hermione laughed,

"Well, thank you, Minerva. See you soon."

As Hermione made her way to the next car, she wondered if there was a way that she could sniff Remus' clothes without him noticing. If anyone smelled of Wolfsbane, it would be him. Hermione continued to softly tread down the quiet aisle in the next car, looking in each compartment for Lupin and his thick brown hair. She thought she heard his voice in the compartment to her left, so she stopped, not wanting to interrupt. But, she couldn't help but overhear Remus talking with a familiar, deep voice.

"I never said that, Severus. She has changed so much, though. There is nothing wrong with –"

"With what, exactly?" Severus growled.

"Well, I…"

"Well, I saw her and I am certain that I saw no evidence of a change."

"You're blind then. She is so - "

"Try not to be too deplorable, _Lupin_. It does not become you."

"What, Severus? Afraid you'll actually enjoy living life for a change?" Remus' voice was straining from his anger.

"That remains to be seen," Severus sneered, calm and quiet as ever, "But, for now, I think we should continue this conversation some other time. You have a visitor."

Snape swiftly stepped into the aisle and looked Hermione dead in the face,

"After the feast, come to my office so I can give you your assignments for this… _apprenticeship_."

Hermione couldn't answer. She didn't have time. Snape turned on his heel and left the car before she could even breathe. Remus met her in the aisle and waved for her to enter the compartment. She waited a moment and then built up the courage to ask,

"Are you alright, Professor? Should I come by later?"

"Oh, that was nothing. Severus and I, despite our friendship, still have our…differences."

"Oh, I see," Hermione responded.

"So," Remus straightened his robes and leaned back, "the Order meeting is set for September first, is that correct?"

"Yes, I believe so," Hermione nodded.

"Good. It will be nice to see how Harry performs in a position of power. Hopefully he can handle all the work without asking you to do most of it for him," the werewolf laughed.

Hermione was about to protest but Remus held up a hand to stop her,

"No, no, it's alright. I was just being a bit of a cad. But, I also know that Harry did not write those wonderful essays for the parchment portion of my class all by himself."

Hermione felt herself blush. Their conversation went on about school for a while, but Hermione was still wondering about the discussion that she had heard between Remus and Professor Snape. As Remus talked, Hermione studied his face to see if he was still upset. He looked as if he was back to normal, but every now and then, between pauses, he seemed distant. Remus' big, scarred hands were moving all the time as he talked and as she looked at his tanned face, Hermione was reminded of how young he was. She had heard the legend that werewolves' aging process slowed even more than wizards once they were infected, and she had always pictured him as old as her own father, but Remus actually looked like a young man. The only things that aged him were his countless scars, bits of grey in his shoulder-length hair, and the lines in his eyes when he smiled.

After a while, the dessert cart came around and Hermione took tea. Remus asked her,

"Are you excited that Ron will be close by?"

Hermione shrugged and gave him a confused look,

"Oh, yes, I guess so."

"Minerva was saying that he had some feelings for you when you were at school. Looking at you now, I'm sure those feelings haven't changed much," Remus complimented her.

She blushed again,

"Thank you, Remus. Yes, Ron has made those feelings known, but we've tried to be together, and we know that it just doesn't work out."

"I can see that, I suppose. I've also heard about his brothers' _opinions_ on this war," Remus was trying to see what Hermione knew of the twins' new ideas.

"Well, I'm sure Fred and George have their reasons," Hermione didn't feel like talking about the war. She was pretty sure that if she _never_ spoke of the war again, it would be too soon.

Silence filled the compartment as they drank their tea. Hermione gazed out the window and watched the sea of grass roll past the train and extend over the high hills in the distance. For a moment, Hermione found herself wishing that those endless fields really were the foamy waves of the deep ocean. She wanted to sink into the salty current. She was tired of people's opinions and their fears, she was tired of worrying about her parents and her friends, and she was definitely tired of sleeping with her wand beneath her pillow. This was no way to live. There was no happiness in waiting, at any moment, to receive bad news about another dead friend. There was no happiness in nightmares. Her eyes followed the terrain outside, watching as the blades and leaves bent away from the tracks. The pale green stalks tumbled and churned against the wind, like a turbulent, jade sea. She wanted to be lost in that sea. She found herself wanting, for the first time in her life, to be anywhere but Hogwarts. She knew the turmoil that awaited her there, and she would rather take her chances with the endless ocean.

She stood to go to the powder room and Remus stood as she left the car, his impeccable manners pulling him to his feet. As she tried to squeeze out of the compartment, she caught a whiff of his cloak. Inhaling deeply, she turned and excused herself.

As she walked down the aisle, confusion filled her mind,

 _Rosemary? He turns into a werewolf under every bloody full moon, drinks Wolfsbane Potion like tea, and he smells like rosemary?_

Hermione was more than frustrated.

Just before she got to the restroom, Minerva caught her and told her that they were only a few miles away from Hogwarts.

"Oh, thank you, Minerva," Hermione smiled.

Minerva beamed back at her,

"Yes, of course, dear. It will be good to be home again, won't it?"

Words wanted to escape from behind Hermione's lips, but tears began to well up in her eyes, forcing her to simply nod and pretend to go powder her nose when really, she was just trying to hold herself together.

The castle was just as she remembered it. Tall jutting towers scraped the night sky, and the great wooden doors to Hogwarts creaked open, allowing smells and memories to pour out into the evening air. It was enough to make Hermione forget, if only for a moment, that her life was on the line as soon as she crossed the threshold to her old school, her home. She left her bags and owl with her fellow faculty members' belongings. The group ascended the stairs and seated themselves with the professors who had remained at the school that summer in the Great Hall. Dumbledore stood happily behind his podium and gave Hermione a small wink. She smiled back and sat down beside Hagrid, hugging as much of his arm as she could. Remus joined them moments later. Across the room, Hermione watched as Severus Snape crossed the hall and whispered something into Dumbledore's ear. The headmaster nodded briefly, and took a slip of paper from Snape's hand. Much like a dark wave, Snape's robes tossed and crashed between the rows of tables and followed out the big, double doors. Before she could ask Remus what was going on, Dumbledore began a very casual speech,

"Good evening friends, and welcome back. Your yearly contracts will appear on the table before you in a moment, but first, I have some bittersweet news. Our dearest companion, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, has decided to retire, despite my deepest regrets."

 _She's retiring?_

Applause filled the room and Poppy was hugged from all sides. Her colleagues shook her hand and congratulated her on her career. Hermione could see tears on her cheeks, but Poppy looked relieved. Dumbledore continued,

"She has agreed to remain until December. But, in her place, I would like to introduce one of the brightest witches that these walls have ever seen. She has had a lot of advanced practice due to her _adventurous_ friends, and she has been a close comrade of mine for a long time. I am confident that she will care for us just as diligently as Poppy has through these recent, _trying_ years. If you will all please welcome Madam Hermione Granger!"

 _I did not sign up for this._

Hermione blushed uncontrollably and tried to calm her breathing as she looked up at Hagrid, who was applauding and trying to hold back a sniffle. Remus put a supportive arm around her shoulder and many of her other professors wished her the best of luck. The applause politely died out and Dumbledore went on,

"As you may know, the Order of the Phoenix has decided to go public. They have moved their headquarters to the southeast quadrant of the grounds. Harry Potter will be overseeing its construction and I will be interviewing anyone who wishes to become a member in my office by appointment only. Please enjoy the feast, and I hope that we have a successful and _safe_ year."

The faculty applauded once again as Dumbledore stepped away from the podium and took a seat beside Madam Pomfrey. Moments later, plates of gorgeous food appeared on the table, along with the contract that Dumbledore had mentioned. Hermione watched as Remus and the other professors signed the paper with their wands, so she followed suit. Throughout the meal, Hermione was glad to catch up with Hagrid and convince Lupin to show her some more advanced healing techniques that were best used against the dark arts.

He smiled in between bites,

"I'll be more than happy to help our new mediwitch however I can!"

Hermione could barely see his oversized canines when his smile reached its limit. Without meaning to, Hermione shuddered a bit at the sight, her imagination getting the best of her as his skin pulled back over his long teeth. She shook it off. _It's just Remus. The moon must be getting close. Pull it together._

Suddenly, she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She spun around and came face to face with Professor Dumbledore,

"Oh, sorry professor! You startled me a bit."

"Quite alright, Madam Granger. I was wondering if you might stop by my office as soon as you're done here?"

"Yes, I think we need to talk," Hermione suppressed her frustration.

His eyes twinkled kindly behind his glasses as Hermione tried to explain that she already had an appointment with Professor Snape later that evening. He reassured her,

"Yes, dear, but I am afraid that he will be unavailable tonight, so he has left your orientation to me."

Hermione nodded. After Dumbledore had left the hall, Remus muttered,

"Severus must have had other things to do."

Leaving the table and saying her goodbyes to Hagrid and Remus, Hermione mused about where Professor Snape could be. It was a short walk to the headmaster's office and Hermione let herself in,

"Professor?"

"Oh, yes! Come in, Madam Granger!" Dumbledore called from the back of his office, "I was just looking for my bag of blueberry tarts. They must be in here somewhere…Ah! Here we are. Care to join me?"

Dumbledore extended a thin, wrinkled hand and offered Hermione the bag of sugary tarts. She shook her head,

"No, thank you, Professor. I was actually wondering if we could talk about your letter, and about my new...position."

"Yes, of course. I assume you are curious as to why Severus would be a member of the Order but not be known by the other members, yes?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well," Dumbledore continued, straightening his thick beard, "I believe that I told you that he worked for the Order, but really he works for me. Since I am the Order's chairman, I took it upon myself to keep Severus' job a secret. You see, he is our most valuable spy and the only one that we have that speaks directly to Voldemort."

"I figured that it was something of that nature," Hermione admitted, "But, I fail to see why you requested that I work under him. I've made all of the Hospital Wing's potions. I know the basic charms. Shouldn't I work with Madam Pomfrey instead?"

"To put it frankly, Madam Granger – "

"Hermione, please," she smiled.

"Well," Dumbledore returned the grin, "to put it frankly, Hermione, Severus is _summoned_ by Voldemort quite frequently. Even though he is more than skilled in healing potions and charms, far beyond even Poppy's expertise, Severus is not able to heal some of the curses inflicted upon him, especially when he has experienced a rather _lengthy_ meeting. Death Eaters are banded together much like wolves, you see. Only the strongest are allowed to remain. Severus, being one of Tom's favorites, has his strength tested more frequently than we would like."

"I see…" whispered Hermione.

Dumbledore's voice was very matter-of-fact as he explained Snape's situation,

"Not only is he constantly afflicted with dark magic, but as Voldemort grows stronger and angrier, Severus keeps showing up in his quarters in more trouble than ever. Poppy, by the wand of Merlin, refuses to work with curses of that nature. She only helps him by my direct command, at this point. I believe you thought you would be her assistant?"

Hermione nodded, "I certainly didn't think I'd be taking her place."

"The truth is, she believes that Voldemort will hunt her down if she continues to heal Severus," Dumbledore cleaned his half-moon spectacles absent-mindedly, "So, she has decided to retire. I promised to wipe her memories of her time spent working on Severus' curses."

"Voldemort would really kill her just for healing him? Is that a possibility, Professor?" Hermione's heartbeat was in her throat.

"I'm afraid it is a possibility. However, your rewards for aiding the Order in this little secret mission will be _substantial_. While your mediwitch salary goes through the normal channels at Gringotts, your extra payment will be from me for helping Severus."

"I'm pretty sure Professor Snape would rather go it alone than ever ask for my help," Hermione scoffed, trying to distract herself from the subject matter at hand.

Dumbledore laughed,

"Well, I'm afraid that he has little choice in the matter. He is my investment, and the Order needs the information he provides to survive. To calm your worries about his mistrust in you, he is not your employer; I am. He is stubborn and secretive, but I refuse to sacrifice our hard work just because he thinks he can survive on his own. There have already been too many close calls. However," Albus peered over his spectacles at her, "If you refuse to take on this extra burden, I will wipe your memory of this conversation and you may remain on the staff as our mediwitch."

Hermione let the reality of the situation sink in. She was quiet for a long time, picking at her fingernails. She could be the mediwitch at the largest wizarding school in the world, have a quiet, prestigious career, and collect her payments for life. Or, she could help the meanest, most intelligent wizard who just happened to be the Order's only spy left against Voldemort since Tonk's death last winter. She would almost certainly gain Voldemort's hatred and she would continue to live in fear. But, if Snape was dead, the Order would have nothing. Harry would be an easy target. Hermione decided, as she thought about her friends and family, that she couldn't let them down. If anyone was going to heal Severus Snape, it was going to be her. She stared into Dumbledore's bright blue eyes and said,

"I accept."

"I thought you might," he replied, "So, I took the liberty of housing you in the dungeons on his floor, across the hall."

Hermione's heart was back in her throat. _The dungeons? I have to live there?_

"Here is your room number and passcode," he handed her a bit of paper, "Now, I'll need you to sign a separate contract."

Hermione removed her wand, but Albus stopped her,

"I'm afraid this is not that type of contract, Hermione. This parchment is a blood oath between you, me, and Severus. It prohibits any other wizard from forcibly obtaining any information about our agreement or about Severus, through Legilimency or otherwise. However, if you willingly choose to give away Severus' position in our ranks, or any information about his tasks, you will be stopped on pain of death."

"Death?" _Gulp._

Albus nodded, handing her a glass quill,

"Sign here."

Hermione's eyes followed his bony finger as it arched onto a dotted line on the bottom of the parchment. As she began to sign, red liquid filled the quill's fibers and flowed onto the paper. She had a sinking feeling that it might be her own blood inside of it.

"Excellent! I'll have Severus contact you as soon as he can. I believe both he and Madam Pomfrey have left you instructions in your quarters. Feel free to transfigure the furniture as you wish. Careful with the faucets, though. Terrible accident in Minerva's chambers last year."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione's voice was weak, but she forced it out anyway.

"Good evening, Hermione," he stood and shook her hand.

She made her way slowly out of the office and down into the dungeons. After going through a maze of twists and turns, she came to her portrait door. The wizards in the portrait were covered in armor, enacting a gruesome battle scene. One wizard's hands never left his face. Unsettled by most of the dungeon's portraits, she slowly lifted the frame and entered the room with a password, _Orestes_ , and sank onto the floor into an exhausted, emotional puddle.

After a few deep breaths and a hardened resolve, Hermione looked around the room. It was larger than she expected, and bright, which surprised her after coming from the dark dungeon corridor. Her walls were a creamy plaster and her floor was deep, black Walnut. It reminded Hermione of a trip she took with her parents to see the Spanish missions in South America. She remembered loving the smoothness of the walls. Inside of the room was a small fireplace, a chair and a couch, a large desk with a tiny stool, and a door-less entryway to the left of the hearth. She went through the arched portal and an old bed frame with a white, fluffy mattress awaited her. Another doorway was on the other side of the bedroom which led to a bath with a commode and a huge tub. If there was one thing she loved about Hogwarts, it was the bathtubs. Despite the quaintness of the room, her tub looked like it could fit four or five people.

She returned to the main room and began unpacking her belongings. She managed to transfigure her empty luggage into an armoire so that she could hang her robes. She let her owl out of his cage and gave him a bowl filled with newspaper clippings to nest in. As she explained to Hagrid earlier, she feared that he was too small for the aviary and that he might get confused with a field mouse. So, he had allowed her to keep him in her quarters. The owl didn't seem to object to his featherless roommate.

Hermione transfigured her other suitcases into bookshelves, five of them, and filled them with her texts. With minimal trouble, she was even able to enchant a window for herself. She slightly altered the existing furniture…king-sized bed, large desk chair, huge sofa…and scrutinized the finished product.

It was quaint, but it was hers, and she loved it.

She picked up the letters and books that Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey had left on her desk. She opened Madam Pomfrey's letter first,

 _Hermione,_

 _Enclosed in these texts are my recent notes on some afflictions and what seems to work best when you have no idea what happened. The books are valuable, but the notes are what you need to pay attention to. I have agreed to tutor you on Sundays, and to allow you to visit the wing during the school day, but I simply cannot find the time other than Sunday to do things one-on-one. He knows more than I do anyway. I am forever indebted to you for taking my position. Good luck._

 _Poppy._

Hermione set her letter inside of a text titled _Advanced Curses and Cures_ and picked up Snape's note,

 _I hope you are diligent enough to understand the weight of your choices. If you were the least bit intelligent, you would have turned down Professor Dumbledore immediately. However, since you clearly have only a semblance of a brain, as you are presumably reading this letter, I fear that you are now trapped in this occupation. Read these texts quickly and be prepared to train in my office every weeknight at eight, beginning after the first day of classes. No excuses. Try your best not to be a nuisance._

 _S.S._

As soon as she finished reading it, Snape's letter burst into white hot flames, vaporizing itself into the air.

"Good grief!" Hermione shouted as she rubbed her burning hands. She exhaled sharply and turned to the Ember owl, "We'll have to remember that nasty trick, won't we?"

Flustered by the fiery note, she picked up the huge text Snape had sent her. She looked on the spine and on the back, but she didn't see an author or a title.

The writing was very messy, but she could make out the potions and spells inside. After reading a few lines, she noticed that all the writing was done in Snape's scrawl. Some of the notations looked hurried or only partially complete, while others had copious amounts of information across the page. As Hermione began to read them, she realized that she was looking at Snape's notes about the curses that he received and what trial, or errors, had come of him trying to heal by himself. Hermione knew that it would take days to make out his spidery script, but she was shocked that he would even give this book to her in the first place. It was so personal.

 _He wants me to know what works against Voldemort's spells. Most of this is different procedure from what worked in theory or in class. He doesn't want one of my stupid mistakes to cost him his life._

Hermione put the book down and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She decided to start fresh tomorrow. Yawning, she went over to feed her owl.

"I'm going to have to name you soon," Hermione said as she stroked his head.

In his bowl, burning scraps of paper turned black and curled from the heat of his tiny smoldering breaths. Hermione chuckled to herself,

"How about 'Ashes'?"

The owl's head tilted slightly, but he didn't seem too upset by her joke.

"Oh, yeah?" Hermione responded to his quizzical expression, "Well 'Ashes' it is, then," she sighed, "The mail is sure to suffer."

She handed him a treat and went into her bedroom to change. Just as she took off her robes, she thought she heard a knock at the door. Straightening her tee shirt, she walked back into the main room to see who would be calling so late. As she opened the door, she never expected to see Remus standing there, almost in tears. He was panting and visibly distraught.

"Remus!" Hermione ushered him inside, "Are you alright?"

He breathed out quickly and fixed her with his grey eyes,

"I'm afraid not. Where is Severus?"


	4. We are All Mad Here

Chapter Four: _We are All Mad Here_

Hermione was uneasy as she watched Remus, waiting for an answer,

"I have no idea where Professor Snape is. Why? What happened?" She asked again.

"There was an attack," Lupin told her, breathlessly, "on the Salem Academy in Boston. They slaughtered those children…Albus just gave us the word moments ago on his way back from the Ministry."

"Voldemort attacked a school?"

"No, a group of his Death Eaters and a horde of dementors attacked the school. Albus said there are at least thirty dead so far. They burnt the building down. Some of them…some of them were still inside. It's all gone. Bloody hell. All those people," Remus couldn't hold back a loud cry that escaped his lips.

He buried his face in his hands. For a moment, Hermione let the news sink into her mind. American wizards were rare. The Salem Academy was a close-knit group; that much she knew. She couldn't fathom losing three of her closest friends, much less thirty. She put a reassuring hand on Lupin's shoulder. He continued,

"Albus, Minerva, and Poppy are on their way there now. I'm not sure what they can do to help, but I'm sure he will think of something. To put the topper on the cake, Severus had an _errand_ to run, so I think I am in charge of the castle right now."

"It's alright, Remus. Professor Dumbledore will be back in no time," Hermione tried to calm him down.

"Yes, I'm sure he will. But, this attack was more than just a Death Eater plot. This was a test. Voldemort lost a lot of wizards tonight, but now he knows the kind of damage his beasts can do in only a matter of minutes."

The pair was silent. Remus stared into the flickering fireplace and slowly reached up to grab the pale hand that rested on his shoulder. He held it for a moment and stood up to face her. They stared at each other for a short while, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione broke the silence, suddenly uneasy,

"Perhaps we should get some sleep until they return. We can't just sit up and wait."

"Yes," Remus agreed, watching as Hermione's hand removed itself from his grip, "We should be rested."

"Do you think Voldemort will attack here tonight?"

"No. He wants Hogwarts too much to risk losing it on account of his casualties," Remus' growing fangs showed through his angry, clenched jaw. Hermione gave him a soft smile,

"Thank you for telling me, Remus. Let me know if anything changes, will you?"

"Yes, of course. I'll return to check on you in the morning, unless I hear something sooner," Remus said as he let himself out of the door.

Hermione locked the portrait and went straight to her bedroom. She tore her cupboard apart looking frantically for Dreamless Sleep Draught. After a bit of rummaging, her eyes caught a glimpse of a bright blue bottle. She grabbed it, downed the entire thing, and fell into bed, desperately trying to hold back the frustrated tears that began to pool under her big hazel eyes. As she began to fall into a deep, abyssal slumber, the last thing she heard was the bottle clink as it hit the floor.

She awoke that next morning to the sound of knocking at her door. She slowly rose and wrapped herself in her housecoat. Hermione pulled the door ajar and welcomed Remus inside.

"What news?" She asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Albus wrote and said that they will stay for a week to help put out the fires and stabilize some of the survivors. He said he spoke with the headmistress, Professor Alice Alsgard, and she has agreed to relocate her students and faculty to Hogwarts' eighth floor, as per Dumbledore's request. I informed Professor Flitwick and Hagrid of the plan, and they are about to begin transfiguring the floor to accommodate the Americans."

"Are there no classes on the eighth floor? Does Professor Flitwick need help?" Hermione was shocked that an entire school would be able to fit on one floor inside Hogwarts.

"I'm sure they would appreciate any help that they can get, especially from a skilled transfigurist. There haven't been classes on that floor for a few years now. The wizarding population has declined since the war has been going on. It seems that no one wants to raise a baby in such trying times."

"I see," Hermione nodded.

"However, I have also asked that Professor Flitwick relieve me of my duties. The moon is very close, you see," Remus stared at the ground, "and with Severus gone, I have taken no Wolfsbane this week. So, I will return in a few days' time."

"Oh," Hermione whispered, "How long do you have until – "

"Only tonight, so I must excuse myself from the grounds. Severus should return soon, I hope. When he does, could you deliver this letter?" Remus held out an envelope.

"Yes, of course," Hermione took it.

"Will you be alright, Hermione?" Remus looked protective and concerned.

She put a hand on his arm,

"I have Hagrid to look after me. Just remember to take care of yourself, Remus."

He smiled and gave her a short, firm embrace. She let him out of the study and changed into her robes. After making sure Ashes' water bowl was full, she left the room and made her way steadily up to the eighth floor.

As she got to the third floor, the staircases had already moved on her four or five times and she was cursing the fact that apparition was not allowed on Hogwarts' grounds. By the time she got to the eighth floor corridor, she was panting and slightly perspiring from the climb. Hagrid met her halfway down the hall,

"'Ermione! Came all this way, didya? Blimey! It's a climb, ain't it? I figgered you could start on the classrooms down the hall, there. They're easy enough; chairs 'n desks!" Hagrid's face stretched into a grin as he tried to lightly pat Hermione on the back. She flew forward a few feet from his good-natured pat and drew her wand, ready for the mindless work to relieve some of her stress.

As she worked, Hagrid and Professor Flitwick checked in on her progress, giving her pointers or shortcuts along the way. By the midafternoon, they had almost completed the first of three halls. Hermione took a short break and checked in on Hagrid who was working on Headmistress Alsgard's temporary office.

He was working on the colors when Hermione joined him,

"D'ya like the navy, or the red?" His pink umbrella switched the colors over and over to show Hermione the difference.

She looked at the wall for a minute and told him to go with the navy.

"Aye, yer right about that. Wanna break fer some lunch?"

"Sure," Hermione grinned, well-aware of her stomach's rumbling protests from being denied breakfast that morning.

One of the house elves dropped off a tiny feast and Professor Flitwick joined them. Hermione couldn't help but shove the stag flank roast into her mouth in very unladylike bites. Hagrid and the professor didn't seem to care. As they sat in Hagrid's completed office, they spoke of their progress. Professor Flitwick speculated that they could complete the second hall by this evening,

"…and the third hall sometime tomorrow, luck willing."

"I'm shocked at how quickly it gets done," Hermione admitted, "Sometimes I feel like the castle does some of the work itself!"

Flitwick raised his thick, bushy eyebrows,

"You'd be very surprised at the things this castle _seems_ to do."

The trio laughed, finished their meal, and set to work on the second hall.

Hagrid worked beside Hermione for some of the rooms, mostly lifting things out of her way. She asked him,

"So, how will this all work? There is no meal hall here, and no astronomy tower."

"Well," Hagrid watched as she transformed a bench into a row of chairs, "There'll be a little overlap, ya know? The 'Mericans will prolly eat with us, and we might haveta squeeze 'em into some 'o the classes."

"It might be fun to get to know the faculty," Hermione mused.

"I hear they got themselves a werewolf, too. Who knows which one it is. Maybe Professor Lupin will make a new friend," Hagrid chuckled nervously, "If 'friend' is the right word for it. But, uh…the 'Mericans, yeah. Ya know, they only got two houses. Let's see, they got the…the Loman's Legion fer the witches and the Harper's Horde fer the wizards. But, I remember Albus sayin' summat about the ladies beatin' the men's Quidditch teams ever' year fer a while now!"

"Weird that they are separated like that," Hermione was excited to see how the houses mixed with Hogwarts' students.

The pair continued their work in silence for a while, chatting only about pleasant thoughts, and ignoring any mention of the war or the physical attack as much as possible. At the end of the day, Professor Flitwick explained to them that the only things left on the floor to complete were the dormitories. He relieved Hermione and thanked her for her help,

"We couldn't have done it without you, Madam Granger. I'll only need Hagrid tomorrow. I had no idea your transfiguration abilities were so advanced."

"Well," Hermione smiled, "it helps to have the transfiguration professor as your Head of House."

She laughed with them and made her way back down the stairs. It was a fifteen minute journey by the time she returned to the dungeons. Upon her return, she saw that Professor Snape's light was on underneath his door. She decided to deliver Remus' letter, so she knocked.

No answer.

She knocked again.

"Come," Snape's deep voice rumbled out into the hall.

Hermione slowly let herself into the office. She managed to peer around the room, which was surprisingly similar to hers. _Darker though_ , she thought to herself. At the far end of the room, Snape sat at his desk, glaring at her.

"What do you want, _Madam_?"

"You can call me 'Hermione,'" she told him, trying to be friendly.

He didn't reply. She went on,

"Remus told me to give you this letter."

He snatched it from her hands, ripped it open, and scanned the page,

"Is this all?"

"Yes," she nodded, suddenly noticing a red pool beginning to form under the desk.

"Then get out."

"Sir, you're bleeding," Hermione protested, pointing at the growing puddle.

"They did tell me you were _clever_ ," Snape spat angrily at her.

"Let me help – "

"Get. Out," his black eyes were lifeless and fierce all at the same time.

Hermione raged,

"I wasn't hired to _get out_! Remove your robe so I can heal you, and then I'll leave. Trust me, nothing except my paycheck is keeping me here."

Reluctantly, and not without grimacing a little, Snape removed his coat and blood-soaked undershirt. Hermione could see the bone of his ribs through the giant gash in his tattooed skin.

"God," she breathed, removing her wand and casting a diagnostic spell.

"This is _nothing_ , Miss Granger. If your stomach is too weak for this work, perhaps you should simply continue mending black eyes and bandaging Quidditch scrapes," Snape seethed.

She remained silent. Her healing charm seemed to be holding and his sinewy muscle began reforming over his side. She tried not to watch as his face contorted with painful agony. Pale, flawless skin slowly grew over the exposed tissues and he exhaled in full, deep breaths. As soon as she cast a cleaning spell, he pulled his coat back on and straightened his shirt. He looked up at her,

"Why are you still here?"

Hermione, livid to the point of painful frenzy, sheathed her wand, spun on her heel, and slammed the door of his office.

In the hallway, she shuddered with turbulent fury, hot tears racing down her face. She stormed into her quarters down the hall and smashed smashed her door into its frame. Livid, she threw her robes on the floor and headed straight for the bath.

Perfumed water pooled around Hermione's neck as she leaned her head against the pale marble tub. In her mind, all she could picture was Snape's grizzly wound and the large amount of black tattoos that covered his skin. _That wound was meant to be healed by two wizards. Did he think he could bandage something like that?_ She had probably saved his life tonight, and the only thing he could say to her was, "Get out!"

"Ugh!" She said aloud to the empty bathroom, trying to release some of her frustration. No wonder Poppy was retiring.

Her anger had barely subsided at all since their encounter. She tried to comb out the tangles of her curls and gave up after about fifteen frustrating minutes. Hermione spread soap down her body, washed off, and cast a swift drying spell. After she found her sweat pants and a jumper, she curled up in her bed with one of Madam Pomfrey's texts. If she couldn't relax, at least she could prepare. If Snape was talking and doing paperwork with the wound he had tonight, Hermione couldn't even imagine what awaited her if he was actually unconscious, or worse.

Some of the photographs and diagrams in the textbook were horrific, but she didn't mind. All she could focus on was getting the spells memorized. Hermione read for hours, saying each spell repeatedly in her head and aloud, doing anything she could to prepare. Time flew by as she read page after page of Poppy's notes and the chapters in the book. It was midnight before Hermione even considered taking a break. She looked out through her enchanted window and stared into the bright, full moon. For a moment, she thought of Remus, but then she made up her mind to visit the library. It was late. None of the faculty would be there in the middle of the night. She could work in peace for once.

She slipped on a pair of satin flats and yesterday's blue jeans, scooped Ashes out of his bowl, and told him,

"You and I are going for a little walk."

Ashes squawked in happy agreement, and settled onto Hermione's shoulder. He was just happy to get out of the house for a while.

Locking her door, Hermione turned into the dark hallway and made her way out of the cool, damp depths of the dungeon. The castle was silent and the stones were cold on her fingertips as she gently reached out to the walls. She could only hear the sound of her flats pitter-patter across the rugs as she walked. Her breathing was slow and even as she crossed the landing and made her way past the Great Hall.

She allowed Ashes to fly in front of her for a while, watching as he explored the corridor, the tips of his wings bright and glowing through the darkness like orange embers. She made her way up the stairs toward the library and hoped that new texts had been added since she was away. She missed the books. She missed the smell of pages and binding glue; she even missed the dusty shelves in the back where she liked to hide and read. The door to the library creaked softly as she stepped into the vast, book-filled room. Hermione lit her wand and began to browse her favorite sections. Ashes flitted back to her finger as she chose a familiar book and headed for her usual chair. She was about to pass the last bookcase when she saw a dark form stir in _her_ seat. Hermione froze, silently casting _Nox_ in her head, her heart beating out of her chest.

Slowly, she peeked around the shelves and looked at the figure. There, with mountains of paper work strewn about him in a half-circle, sat the man who she had desperately wanted to avoid. Severus Snape's black locks were bound with a band at the base of his neck, but a few strands fell into his face as he read. Long, dexterous fingertips traced over his notes as his eyes moved down the page. He had laid his robes over the arm of _her_ chair, and they pooled on the floor as oily shadows. The sleeves of his sweater were scrunched at his elbows, revealing his pale, venous, heavily tattooed forearms as he reached for this page or that.

Hermione began to retreat to another section of the library, anger welling up in her throat at the very sight of Snape, her emotional wounds still fresh from their earlier confrontation. But, as she began her escape, Ashes betrayed her, letting out a displeased squawk straight into her left ear.

"Ashes!" Hermione winced in pain.

Snape's wand was at her throat in less than a moment. Hermione batted it away from her face with a fierce swipe, still holding her ear in pain,

"Merlin. It's just me."

Snape lowered his wand and exhaled sharply. He didn't move. Instead, he remained planted to the floor in front of Hermione, blocking her exit from the aisle. After what seemed like a minute or two, Hermione was able to hear out of her left ear again, and she raised her eyes to stare at Snape defiantly. He was staring at her. Slowly, words began to form, barely above a whisper as he said,

"I want our partnership to be…cordial."

Hermione was shocked, but still wrathful,

"Oh yes, because you were so _cordial_ earlier."

Snape's eyes searched the bookshelves, looking for the words,

"I _apologize_."

She couldn't believe it. Had Professor Snape apologized to her? She must be dreaming. But, Hermione could tell that "apologize" wasn't a word that frequently escaped from his mouth. He had said it as if it were a curse, or as if it had left a foul taste in his mouth. He said it like he wanted to spit it out onto the library floor. But, it was still an apology, and in truth, Hermione wanted to be cordial as well. She tried to hold onto her anger, but eventually she met his gaze and said,

"It's fine. I can understand why you were so frank earlier."

"Thank you," Snape still didn't move from his spot, even though Hermione desperately wanted to leave to be done with the awkwardness.

"What are you doing here alone?" he asked, suspicious.

"I came here to read, obviously, but you're in _my chair_ ," she replied spitefully.

Snape said nothing. In fact, he was very quiet, statue-like, and still blocking her path.

"What are you reading?" Hermione pried.

"None of your business," Snape snarled back at her.

Hermione recoiled, crossing her arms and glaring at him, as she sarcastically mocked him,

"Is it a secret?"

Her tone bit at his nerves,

"Yes," he hissed into the darkness.

"Well," she pushed him further, "obviously I can't tell anyone about it, since I'm apparently bound by _pain of death_." Her last few words escaped her lips in a spot-on Dumbledore impersonation. Snape eyed her warily, slightly yet invisibly amused at her joking manner,

"It's research."

"Alone in the dark?" she pressed on.

"No," his voice was thick with venomous sarcasm, "the whole bloody lot of us are here. Of course I'm alone. Unlike most of our _faculty,_ I do not require others to hold my hand while I work." His lip curled in genuine disgust.

"Well, you certainly aren't doing potions in here at one in the morning," Hermione pointed out.

"Your cleverness knows no bounds. And what are _you_ doing here, alone, with an Ember owl no less? Burning all the books that advocate the use of house elves?"

Hermione bit her tongue. She tried not to let her temper get the best of her. Then, much to her own surprise, she decided to simply be honest,

"I just – I just couldn't sleep."

Snape chuckled viciously,

"Worried about your _werewolf_?"

"My werewolf?" Hermione raged, startling Ashes considerably, "Why would Remus be _my_ werewolf? Surely you aren't insinuating –"

He laughed at her anger,

"Merlin."

"Remus and I are friends and colleagues. I don't…I mean, it's none of your business, but I don't see him that way," Hermione seethed and shook with violent indignation.

Snape raised his hands and nodded,

"Alright, I'm sorry if I _offended_ you."

"Thank you," she spat, straightening her robes.

Snape waited until her breathing had quieted down to a small roar,

"Why do you have an Ember owl anyway?"

Hermione stroked Ashes' chest,

"They were going to feed him to the baby hippogriffs!"

"Do you attempt to rescue everything?"

She glared at Snape as he spoke.

"Well," he continued, "it would seem that Albus chose the right witch for _this_ _occupation_ then."

Hermione snorted at the irony. She watched as Snape finally moved from his spot and returned to the seats that were covered in his paperwork. He almost sat in Hermione's chair, but he looked over his shoulder at her with a raised eyebrow and sat in the one beside it instead. Hermione sat in her chair, thankfully, and started to peek onto some of his notes. She picked up a paper from the table beside her and perused his handwriting that bled down the page:

 _AMERICAN FACULTY ROSTER_

 _River Ashenvale DECEASED_

 _Harvey Atoms DECEASED_

 _Melissa Borrado D.E._

 _Antony Chalker SURVIVOR_

 _Greg Carmichael DECEASED_

 _Rachel Carrey SURVIVOR_

 _Alfred Demarcus_ _D.E._

 _Remington LaBeaux_ _SURVIVIOR/ D.E.?_

"What does 'D.E.' mean?" Hermione asked, leaning over to show him his own notes.

Snape snatched it from her hands and swiftly cast a solitude charm around them,

"It stands for Death Eater," his voice was a soft whisper, full of implications and uncertainty, "You will be smart to keep your curiosity to yourself, Miss Granger. It will serve to keep you alive."

Hermione picked at the torn leather arm of her chair and rolled her eyes,

"Apparently now that I am aiding you, there will be very little to keep me alive."

She hadn't meant any offense by it, but all at once, Snape summoned his papers and grabbed his cloak from the floor. His eyes were full of vivid anger and pain as he fixed them on her,

"You think I would let him kill you? That I would even let him try?"

Hermione looked at the floor, immediately sorry for her comment. As he turned and began to leave the library, his cloak brushed past her face, its corners flapping like the wings of a fallen bird, and she could barely smell –

 _Wolfsbane._


	5. A Raven Like a Writing Desk

Chapter Five: _A Raven Like a Writing Desk_

"Wait!" Hermione called, "Professor!"

As she rounded the corner of the bookcase, she discovered that she was very much alone.

"Damn," she whispered into the darkness of the library. As she returned to her chair, she tried to hold on to the scent of Wolfsbane that floated through the air, perfuming the library with earthy, musky scents. Even though she was alone in the dark with only Ashes for company, waves of that same fragrance crashed into her nose, making her breathless. Evergreen was the last thing she was able to smell before it left her nose and faded indefinitely.

Snape was the abductor from her nightmare.

She searched for him on her way back to the dungeons to no avail. His rooms were locked and he was nowhere to be found in the rest of the hollows on the damp level. She searched for him the next night as well, hoping to run into him, but she was met disappointingly with similar results. Eventually, she lost hope in her chase and resolved to wait until the Americans arrived. He would have to show himself then.

Friday night, the full moon disappeared, leaving a large waning gibbous in the black sky. She was sitting in her living room, trying to practice some of the more difficult spells, when she heard an object slam into her portrait door. Curious, she unlocked it and Remus' limp form slid into her arms.

"Remus! Good grief, are you okay? Remus?" There was no response.

Hermione quickly closed the portal behind her and managed to position him on the sofa. She mixed a few potions for him and eventually stopped the bleeding from his deepest cuts. His leg was broken in two places, so she mended that as quickly as she could. Finally, after a few hours, she had healed him to the point of consciousness.

"Remus," she whispered gently into his ear, "Remus, can you hear me?"

His eyes flickered, trying to adjust to his surroundings,

"Hermione."

"Yes, Remus, are you alright?" Her voice was heavy with worry.

"Merlin…how can I ever thank you, Hermione?" he could barely raise his voice above a hoarse whisper.

"Shh," she scolded him gently, "Just rest for a while. You'll feel better soon, I promise."

As the werewolf slept, Hermione studied his face. His long jaw was scruffy with chocolate brown, unshaved whiskers, and his bruised nose jutted proudly from his face. Remus' shockingly pale grey eyes hid behind tired lids, and his thick hair covered his ears and part of his neck in matted, straight chunks. He was a mountain of a man. In spite of his monthly trials, the werewolf's dense muscle stretched out the torn rags of the clothes he wore. Tanned skin, pink with fresh scars, peeked out of tears and holes in his shirt. Hermione tried to mend his clothes, but it was no use. She simply transfigured a new shirt and laid it by the sofa.

The next morning, the sound of deep breathing woke Hermione. She turned around towards her door to see Remus, to her acute horror, in full wolf form, foaming at the mouth. Hermione froze, struck with terror as the werewolf stepped slowly over to the bed, his long tongue licking his teeth and nose in ravenous hunger. His paws were bloody, as was his muzzle, and Hermione couldn't breathe. His matted black fur bristled over his back as a long, low snarl escaped his lips. Eventually, he was looming over her, a monolithic beast of twice Remus' human size, bright grey eyes piercing her chest. Then, with the suddenness of a shark, his jaws opened wide and went to take a chunk out of Hermione's face.

She awoke a second time, screaming through fearful tears. When she noticed Remus still asleep on the sofa, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief,

" _Sod it all."_

Just a dream.

She threw the covers back and went to affirm the fact that he was indeed still a human this morning. His snores sounded like tiny growls as she inspected him, and she began to shake Remus awake,

"Remus?"

A snarl escaped his lips.

"Remus. Wake up," she prodded him gently.

His eyes popped open in surprise and he settled again when he remembered where he was,

"Oh, Hermione! Good morning."

"How do you feel?" she asked him, secretly keeping a distance between them, wary of her intense dream.

"Right as rain, actually. You just might be better than Poppy," he smiled weakly at her.

She grinned,

"Thanks, Remus. Are you well enough for lunch in the Hall? You need the food."

"Yes, I think so," he stuck a finger through a hole in his shirt, "I guess I should change though. They'll think you've had your way with me if we go down there like this. Can't tell you how many wardrobes my ruined clothes would fill."

He laughed. Hermione tried to share his amusement, but really, she was watching him like a hawk. She tossed him the shirt she had created and politely turned away as he ripped what was left of his clothes off his shoulders. She couldn't help but keep one eye on him at all times, catching a glimpse of his furry chest and brutally scarred torso. Thick, not-so-defined abs led down to deep hip flexors that made shockingly suggestive lines leading straight to his –

"Are you ready?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her obvious stares.

"Oh," Hermione started, flustered and embarrassed, "Yes, yes, of course."

The pair made their way out of her portrait and into the hallway. As they turned to make their way to the Great Hall, standing not ten feet from them were Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore. Hermione put her head into her hands, knowing exactly what look Snape was wearing on his face.

"Well, well, _Lupin_. You seem to have made yourself right at home," Snape growled through his teeth disapprovingly.

"Headmaster. Professor Snape, good to see you. Hermione was kind enough to nurse me back to health after my recent…illness," Remus tried to explain.

"Oh," Albus smiled, "Of course. Well, should you need anything else, Poppy has just returned. We are about to hold a meeting in the Great Hall over lunch, if you would care to join us."

"Yes, of course," Remus smiled politely.

Hermione followed beside Snape as Dumbledore and Lupin walked ahead, discussing the situation involving the American students. Snape was staring at her out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" she hissed.

"There was no need to _lie_ about your relationship with him," he whispered back, "especially to me. You will find that we will need to be completely honest with –" he whispered back, but Hermione interrupted him,

"And you will find that I am being completely honest when I say that he was near death last night… _and he slept on the sofa_."

Snape turned his eyes forward,

"I believe you."

"Why do you suddenly believe me?" she asked, growing more and more irate by the second.

"I have no other choice. I need to be able to trust you, Miss Granger. But, I also need to know that, given the choice, you will not shirk your duty to me to mend your broken _playthings_ ," Snape's voice was steady and matter-of-fact as he explained his concerns to her.

Hermione was furious,

"My _playthings_? What sort of woman do you take me for? I made a blood oath to _you_ and Albus, and I intend to keep it. If you think I go around having _playthings_ , you can just sod off!"

She sped up in front of him, leaving the group of wizards in the corridor as she entered the Great Hall. Hermione seated herself between Hagrid and Professor Flitwick, aiming to ignore the entire group that she had left behind. Lunch was served, salmon and some sort of pasta, and Hermione stuffed her face. She had no desire to speak to anyone. She started to rethink her decision to work here. _If I'm just going to be upset the whole time I'm at Hogwarts, then what's the point?_

Dumbledore cleared his throat,

"Thank you all for coming. As you may have heard, a group of unidentified Death Eaters attacked the Salem Academy in Boston, Massachusetts last week. They lost a large number of students and faculty in the crossfire. Hogwarts is large enough to be able to accommodate our friends in need, and their small school will be occupying our eighth floor during their stay beginning tomorrow morning. Hagrid, Professor Flitwick, and Madam Granger were kind enough to make the floor hospitable for them," light applause filled the hall, and Dumbledore continued,

"We do not know, as of yet, how long it will take to renovate their building in the States. Therefore, we may be entertaining for quite some time. The Salem faculty that has chosen to remain with the students consists of their Headmistress, a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, an Ancient Runes professor, a potions master," Hermione heard Snape let out a soft groan, "and a number of other professors. However, please expect some overlap. Unfortunately, they lost their mediwitch and their Transfigurations professor, as well as other important faculty. Transfigurations is a popular class, so those classrooms will be especially chaotic. In addition, Madam Pomfrey and Madam Granger will probably be tied down considerably more than expected. Nevertheless, we will be able to form a valuable alliance with a longtime educational partner. If there are any concerns, you know where to find me. Also, please remember that the first Order of the Phoenix meeting will take place in their new Headquarters Monday night," Hermione thought she actually saw a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye as he smiled at the staff.

She was less than amused. With the onslaught of students, she doubted if Poppy could spare two seconds, much less Sunday afternoons, on her instruction. Hermione would be forced to learn on the floor, instead of in controlled environments. She hoped Snape could find it in his tiny, black heart to go over some basics, but she really doubted it.

Hagrid leaned over to her, his mouth full of grilled salmon,

"I hear tha 'Merican potions master is a…well," he paused, hunting for the word, "Well, he's like Remus."

"He's the werewolf, the one you mentioned before?" Hermione was stunned.

"Shh!" Hagrid grimaced, "Ya _didn't_ hear it from me! But, if I was you, I'd steer clear of them two wolves."

"Why?"

Hagrid lowered his voice even more to conceal his next statement,

"Well, I was readin' my texts on magical creatures…'n there's a reason why they're a solitary lot, aye? They'll skin each other alive if'n they get tha chance. Territory 'n all that."

In the back of her mind, Hermione pictured her childhood. When she was a little girl, two of the dogs in her neighborhood were in her yard, wanting to play with her. As she stepped out onto the stoop, the animals saw each other and began to fiercely brawl, ripping fur and skin out into the lawn. Her parents had run outside to stop the fight, but Hermione could still hear the sounds of the snarls escaping from their snouts.

Feeling anxious, exhausted, and no longer hungry, Hermione left the table and made her way back into the dungeons. She planned to hide in her room for the rest of Saturday afternoon. Tomorrow was not going to be pleasant.

Morning came as morning usually does: entirely too soon. Hermione donned a set of crisp, clean robes, threw on a little makeup, and charmed her hair to make herself presentable for the castle's new guests. Maybe she could distract Remus before he caught a whiff of the other werewolf…but it was wishful thinking. He could probably smell for miles.

As she passed through the main doors and onto the lawn of the Hogwarts grounds, Hermione ran into Professor McGonagall, and greeted her warmly,

"Good morning, Minerva."

"Oh! Good morning, Hermione. Are you excited about the students' arrival?" Minerva smiled at her and fidgeted with her robes.

Hermione noticed her anxiety and asked,

"I suppose so, but are you ready to take on those Transfigurations classes?"

Minerva sighed deeply,

"I've been teaching for this long, I might as well look forward to a challenge every now and then. I hear that they're obnoxiously loud."

"The Americans?"

"Yes," Minerva looked worried, "and abrasive. Albus assures me that they are well-mannered, but there is cause for some concern. I assume that you have caught wind of the tale about their _potions master_."

Hermione nodded,

"Yes, I have. Has anyone informed Remus?"

"Merlin's beard, I hope not," McGonagall threw up her hands in surrender.

"Which one is he?" Hermione asked, trying to remember the names on Snape's list.

"His name is Remington LaBeaux. Apparently he sells _blemish creams_ and _beauty potions_ , but I hear he has made quite the name for himself. Albus calls him 'creative,'" Minerva rolled her eyes, "I can't wait until Severus gets ahold of him. Between him and Remus, our new American might be visiting you in the infirmary on a regular basis."

 _Remington…Remington…That was the one Snape wasn't sure about! Maybe if I get to know him, he'll let something slip._

After a short while, the Thestral carriages began making their way up the path toward the portcullis, carrying the Hogwarts students. Hermione was able to spot Ginny's red hair in the crowd of students. She stayed to chat for a moment with her friend, but told her that she would see her at the Order meeting later that night. Hermione decided to remain with Professor McGonagall, anxious to meet the American faculty. A separate set of carriages pulled up to the castle gates, and out of them poured a tiny, yet boisterous crowd of American students. They were polite enough, but they were indeed quite raucous. They also had a horrid habit of "yes mam-ing" and "no sir-ing" everyone to death. Their accents made Hermione giggle a bit, but generally, she liked them.

The faculty followed behind the students, all very cordial, if not still a bit dazed from their ordeal. Hermione had never shaken so many hands in her life. Remus was only a few yards away from her, but when she looked over at him, she saw something inhuman crawl across his face. It wasn't anger, it was deeper than that. It was as if Remus was suddenly about to turn into a werewolf in broad daylight. Hermione followed his gaze, and there, across the field, she spotted the potions master.

She could tell it was him from the bright grey eyes that darted about, scanning the grounds, just like Remus did. His gait and his movements matched Remus, almost to an uncanny point. But, his blemish creams seemed to be working, because his face and hands showed none of the damage that Remus' did. In fact, his tanned skin was flawless and amazingly clear in the sunlight. A shock of blond hair lay in fine wisps on the crown of his head, lightly brushing his long eyelashes. Then, Hermione saw his smile. It was a flash of stark white daggers that were sharper than Remus' and not nearly as friendly. But, he was jovial, laughing with the faculty, smiling at the students, much like Hagrid would be. However, his mannerisms and sidelong glances reminded Hermione exactly of Lucius Malfoy. The mixture of fear and friendliness was discomforting. It was as if he could hypnotize his prey with lovely words and gracious smiles, then chew their faces off in his next breath.

 _Professor Snape wasn't entirely sure if he is a Death Eater. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Don't be so judgemental._

Hermione rebuked herself for judging the potions master so quickly. She reminded herself that after her nightmares about Lupin's transformation, and all the horror stories that she had created about Lucius, that she should wait before she signed a possible new friend off into that section of fear in her mind. But, it was difficult to look at Remus' tight, strained visage and not feel some amount of uneasiness.

She moved over to where Remus was standing, tense and trembling like a chained animal,

"Remus? You alright?"

He did not look at her. His eyes stayed fixed on Remington LaBeaux, watching him as he came nearer and nearer to them from across the path. Then, as if he caught a certain smell in the air, the American stopped in his tracks and turned to face Lupin. He moved over to them so quickly, Hermione was sure that he ran, but she couldn't tell.

That sharp smile flashed across his young face, aimed directly at Hermione,

"My word, I heard that there were beautiful sights to behold here in your country, but I never guessed that I would be lucky enough to take one by the hand," he pulled her hand into his, which was warm and eerily free of scars, "It's a pleasure to meet you, mam."

Hermione tried to remain composed and polite,

"The pleasure is mine, Professor –"

"Remington, Remington LaBeaux, but all my best acquaintances call me Remy, as I _insist_ that you do. What do they call you, darlin'?"

"Hermione, I mean, Madam Granger. But, you may call me Hermione, of course. I'll be one of the mediwitches here at Hogwarts. Have you met Professor Remus Lupin? He's our Defense Against the Dark Arts expert," Hermione tried to introduce Remus the best that she could, but Remus was like a boiling cauldron.

"Ahh," breathed the American, "Remus, what an honor. I feel like you and I probably have quite a lot in common. Maybe they'll nickname you Remy as well?"

Remus' voice had only fragments of human noises at this point,

"You had better hope not."

A spark of the same anger flashed across Remy's face as well. Hermione was sure they would tear each other's throats out in moments, had Professor Snape not skillfully intervened.

Where did he come from?

"Gentlemen," Snape hissed, "What a pleasure to have you at our castle, Professor LaBeaux. I have heard so much about _rk."_ To Hermione's shock, Snape was the first to extend his hand toward the American.

It was as if Snape had bewitched Remy with that simple gesture, for all of the humanity rushed back into his face as that smile danced across his lips again,

"Snape! Put 'er there, pal. I read your article last week in _McVarner's Journal of Potions_ and it seems like you folks do some… _different_ things here at Hogwarts. It's such a pleasure to meet you. Actually, I do believe you and I have a mutual friend in potions," Remy shook Snape's hand vigorously enough to make Hermione stifle a giggle.

"Yes," Snape forced a fake smile out onto his face, "I believe you are correct. If you will be so kind as to drop by my office some time, we may discuss our connection over tea. Let's say, nine o'clock?"

Hermione stared at him in utter disbelief. Hermione caught his gaze and glared at Snape's black emotionless eyes. She thought she saw a hint of playful smugness fly across his countenance countenance, but she couldn't be sure.

The two potions professors made their way to the Great Hall in front of Remus and Hermione. She tried to comfort Lupin, but nothing seemed to help. He was biting his lip so hard that blood started to form in tiny droplets at the corners where his incisors were. Luckily, the American faculty was seated with their students at a fifth table in the Hall, conjured just for them. All of the female students sat on one side, and the males sat opposite them; the Legion and the Horde. She could make out curious murmurs among Hogwarts' students as the entire room impolitely ogled at the new guests. After the last of the students and faculty had seated themselves, she heard the tapping of Dumbledore's wand against the podium. He cleared his throat,

"Very best of evenings to you all. First off, allow me to be the first to welcome to our castle The Salem Academy of Sorcery!" Applause filled the hall. Dumbledore continued, "As you may have guessed, the students and faculty of The Salem Academy have endured a great hardship, and they will be occupying our eighth floor classrooms during their stay. Most of you may even share a class with our honored guests. Please be sure to welcome them into your hearts as warmly as you already welcome each other. Now, please allow me to introduce Hogwarts' newest member of the staff: Madam Hermione Granger," more applause, "She will be filling Madam Pomfrey's role as soon as winter break arrives. We are very pleased that she has decided to join our faculty. Finally, it is my great honor to introduce to you, Headmistress Alice Alsgard."

Considerable amounts of applause erupted from the fifth table in the Great Hall. The American students roared their approval and only silenced when the headmistress raised her hands for quiet,

"Thank you, thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. I can assure you that the honor is entirely mine. We have been through a tragedy. Thirty-seven of our family lost their lives last week. We must remember their sacrifice and honor them by doing our very best to be thankful for such a wonderful opportunity. I am very proud of all of you," tears fell like rain drops onto the headmistress' cheek, "for enduring this dark time. Headmaster, we are forever in your debt and will do anything in our power to see that the responsible forces are swiftly brought to _justice_."

Dumbledore smiled at her from over his podium,

"I look forward to working together with you all on that righteous endeavor. Now, without further ado, eat, drink, and please make yourselves at home."

Hermione had to admit, there was something haunting about Headmistress Alsgard's dogmatic quest for justice. Hermione wanted the war to end more than anyone did, but for some reason, she felt like the headmistress was out for blood and did not particularly care whose it was.

After the feast and the sorting of the first years, the students were all shown to their rooms and Dumbledore summoned Hermione over to his chair in the Great Hall.

"Hermione," he whispered, "Harry and Ron should be here any minute. Could you please make sure they arrive to the headquarters in one piece?"

Hermione nodded,

"Of course."

"Thank you, Hermione. See you there in a pip," his eyes were twinkling like fresh fallen snow.

Hermione made her way out into the night air in front of the castle. No doubt the boys would apparate into the woods and fly in on brooms. No matter what mode of transportation brought them here, she was glad that they were coming. With so many new things happening at the castle, it would be nice for their group to be reunited and return to some sense of normalcy. Suddenly, she heard a rustle behind her. She spun around, wand drawn, only to find Ginny in a pouncing position.

"Haha!" Ginny laughed, "I wanted to frighten you!"

"You bloody well succeeded. What are you doing out here?" Hermione pocketed her wand.

"Snuck out. Figured the dynamic duo would be here soon since I watched you leave the hall. You've really got to learn how to sneak around like Snape. You're too easy to catch!" Ginny poked at her.

"They should be here any moment. So, how are you and Harry?"

Ginny blushed,

"Brilliant. He's so wonderful, you know?"

Hermione scoffed,

"Whatever makes you happy, Gin."

"No, really. I'm completely serious. I think he's _the one_."

"Well, I'm happy for you then."

Ginny wore a concerned look all of a sudden,

"What about you, love? I'm sure he's out there for you too."

"Yeah," Hermione scrunched her face, "I'm not so sure about that, Gin."

"Oh, c'mon. I saw how that American potions master was looking at you. He is _very_ cute. You should go for it, yeah?"

Hermione didn't respond. He was cute, and strangely charming. His thick southern drawl was funny, but he was the first person to comment on her looks since Remus' polite remarks on the train. But, she couldn't see Remus that way, could she?

Immediately the image of his hips burst into her mind, and she shook it off.

 _Lord. He's like your big brother. Don't be desperate. It would ruin your friendship._

"Ugh," Ginny complained, "You're _so_ picky!"

"I am not! I just have…a lot on my plate is all. I'll deal with all that _nonsense_ later."

"Nonsense? Love isn't nonsense! Hermione, that young American is cute, and really nice. It's not like he has the plague."

 _No, just turns people into werewolves, eats them like steak, or possibly kidnaps people for Voldemort. Totally safe._

"Oh, hush Ginny. Look, I'm just not interested in men at the moment. I've got more complicated concerns."

 _Like trying to avoid getting eaten by werewolves, kidnapped by Voldemort, or assassinated for healing Professor Snape, who just happens to be a spy that nobody knows about, who will kill me if I tell anyone._

"Alright. But, if you ever want to double with Harry and me, don't hesitate to ask."

"What are you volunteering us for, Gin?" Harry's voice sprang out of the darkness behind them.

"Harry!" Ginny ran over to where he landed his broomstick and threw her arms around him.

Hermione hugged him and Ron, and started to escort them over to the unfinished headquarters building.

"How was the trip?" she asked.

"Fine, fine. How have you been holding up?" Ron replied.

"Fine. So, what are we going over in this meeting, anyway? Do you even have a plan, Harry?" Hermione asked him.

"Of course I do," Harry scratched his head, "I think. Somehow, we've got to get Russia on board. Now that the Americans are here, we need to organize and begin training more people for our cause. The more of us there are, the harder it will be for Voldemort to take us down."

Harry's voice was so hopeful. Hermione tried to see the positive side of things like he did. But, all she could think about was the wound on Snape's torso, and the death threats that scared Poppy into retirement. Snape was undoubtedly the most powerful wizard she knew, but if Voldemort could injure him like that on nothing but a whim…

The group entered the building. Most of the chairs and tables were covered in plastic tarps to protect them from the construction. Boards and slats sat in clusters in the corner and the roof showed all of its beams, naked in the candlelight. A great phoenix statue lay on its side in the front of the room, ready to be positioned proudly on the wall. The building was coming along nicely, Hermione thought.

"When should everyone be here?" Ron asked Harry.

"Soon. I expect them to be arriving any moment now."

Harry was correct. All of the members came in, one by one, and seated themselves on makeshift chairs and boxes. Fred and George were first to arrive, much to Hermione's surprise. They greeted Hermione warmly and took the seats beside Ron and Ginny. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived shortly after them, joining their children at the table. Sirius rushed in as his canine persona and, since he did not carry any clothes, was forced to remain a hound throughout the meeting. But, it didn't stop him from licking everyone right on the face. Finally, Hagrid, the American headmistress, and Dumbledore came through the door in a hurry, looking anxious to begin. Remus came in alone and seated himself beside Hermione, giving her a quick half-smile. She could tell that he was still very upset by Remington's presence. A few other American faculty members situated themselves beside the headmistress, speaking pleasantly to the other members. Luna, Neville, and Cho Chang entered in a group and nearly smothered Hermione with hugs and well wishes, congratulating her on her new job. Once everyone had found a spot, Harry stood up to greet the Order of the Phoenix for the first time.

"Good evening," he said, "and thank you so much for coming. Everyone in this room is playing a vital role in the fight against Voldemort, and I want you to know that I couldn't do it without your help. For those of you who don't know, we have recently gained new allies in the American Salem Academy, from Boston. It means a lot to us that you have decided to offer your help. But, I'm not sure if we have the manpower to take on Voldemort on our own, which is why I have begun some negotiations with Headmaster Virahslav of the Coven of the Republic in Moscow."

There was some murmuring at this statement. Harry continued,

"But, the most important thing that we could do now is train. Through these doors here," Harry slid a tarp to the side, "we are building a training facility with weapons, dueling wands, and other practice materials. Even though many of us are skilled wizards, we aren't nearly as versed in dueling as the Death Eaters are. I think training with each other will be our biggest benefit. Speaking of which, Ginny, how is Dumbledore's Army doing on recruits?"

"Good. We've topped fifty members now, and no telling how many will join this term," she smiled at him.

"I still don't think those children should be doing any sort of fighting. It's dangerous!" Molly protested.

Headmistress Alsgard spoke up,

"I believe you will find that the world is quite dangerous, Mrs. Weasley, and that Death Eaters do not distinguish between first years or graduates."

Mrs. Weasley was silent, but the entire room could tell that her stance on the argument went unchanged.

Then, breaking the awkward silence, Fred's voice rose into the rafters,

"Have you considered an offensive plan, Harry?"

The murmurings returned energetically, and it was Dumbledore who replied to the twins, a somewhat shocked look on his face,

"An offensive plan?"

"Yeah," Fred continued, matter-of-factly, "an offensive plan, so that we do something other than have meetings here like a load of easy targets."

"Fred Weas –" Molly started to reprimand him, but George cut her off.

"No, mum," George stood up from the rickety table, "Fred's right. We've seen some _horrible_ things in the alley, and something has to change. Voldemort has more tricks up his sleeve than we know about, and now that we no longer have Tonks," Remus flinched, "how are we supposed to know what else he's planning? I mean, Dumbledore says he's got an informer, but what information have we heard in the past week? In the past _year_?"

The mention of Remus's late fiancee jarred the room. Her death was a fresh wound for many of the Order members.

"I think I have to agree with Mr. Weasley," Alsgard responded, nodding her head, "An offensive approach may be best."

"Listen," Harry tried to raise his voice above the din, "I know that a lot of people have been hurt, and I know it feels like the Order is just here to talk itself to death. But, I have taken these matters into consideration and I will bring them to the table soon. Please try to be patient. I'm counting on everyone to do their jobs so that we are actually able to pull an offensive maneuver. If we go in unorganized, I think we will be at a disadvantage."

It was silent again. So, Harry continued,

"If you want to meet at your shop in the alley, George, I'd like to continue our discussion. Hopefully when we all meet again, we can consider our offensive stance as a reality instead of just talk. Let's all meet in about three weeks. We should have some decent chairs and tables in here by then. Thanks for coming. I'll send an owl."

Sirius barked. The meeting was over.

Hermione knew that the first meeting should have been longer, and she also knew that Harry had not made an offensive plan at all. He was too afraid of losing allies and he had made something up to buy some time. He had panicked.

"Harry," Hermione whispered to him, "You don't have any plan, much less an _offensive maneuver_."

Angry, Harry turned to her,

"Yeah, don't you think I know that? What else am I supposed to say? I'm meeting the twins, and then I'll…well, I'll figure it out from there."

Hermione didn't respond. She had no idea what to say either. She watched Harry exit the building with Ron, Ginny, and Luna as they headed towards the castle. Hermione turned to find Remus, but he was already gone, no doubt upset by the mention Tonks. The only one left in the room was furry Sirius.

"Hey, Sirius," she sighed, transfiguring one of the tarps into a robe for him.

He licked her hand, taking the robe in his mouth and going into the next room to change.

He returned, human again, and gave Hermione a warm hug. He still smelled like a pooch. But, he smiled at her,

"How's it going, Hermione?"

"Oh, you know. Just the usual Hogwarts story; drama this, Death Eaters that," she was only half-joking.

"Yeah, I understand completely. I hear that from Remus all the time."

"Oh," Hermione replied, "Do you see each other often?"

"We owl more than anything, really, especially around certain times of the month," Sirius grinned.

"Oh, I see."

"Yes," he continued, "He said you two have gotten rather close lately."

"It has been nice to at least have one friend on the faculty," Hermione admitted.

"I suppose working with Severus doesn't yield much in the friendship department," Sirius told her, his tone shifting into something odd and suggestive.

"Well," Hermione replied hesitantly, "We haven't worked together all that much as of yet."

She eyed Sirius carefully as he spoke,

"Hopefully you get the chance to know each other a little better."

His gaze was fixed on the castle as they walked, as if he were unaware that what he said was strange and cryptic. Hermione thought she knew where this conversation was heading, but she had to make sure,

"What do you mean, Sirius?"

"Oh," he looked at the grass, "Just that you two really have quite a bit in common, come to think of it."

Hermione was silent for a few seconds. Their conversation had turned to an awkward place for her. _Things in common with Snape? What is he getting at?_

"Yes," she replied slowly, "we probably do."

Then, Sirius' tone became almost accusatory,

"Have you talked to that American?"

"Which one?"

"LaBeaux." Sirius stared right at her, cutting her with his gaze.

"Yes, for a bit. He seemed rather nice, actually, and I –" Sirius cut her short,

"He is _not_ what he seems."

Hermione didn't know how to respond. She knew that the potions master was a mystery, even to someone as well-informed as Snape. But, what did her speaking with LaBeaux have to do with anything? He was not a threat to her. She was not made of lace; she had fought Voldemort for eight long years. If there was a chance that Remy was a Death Eater, she should find out as much as possible from him. If he wasn't, then talking to him was her business and no one else's.

"What is he then, Sirius? If he's dangerous, you should tell Dumbledore immediately," Hermione replied curtly, calling his bluff.

Sirius sighed and looked over his shoulder as if he were being followed,

"Look, just stay close to Severus, alright? I'll see you soon."

Without warning, Sirius shifted into his canine counterpart and bolted for the castle entrance. His robe fluttered to the ground in a pile of transfigured terry cloth. Hermione followed after him, her pace quickening to avoid being alone in the dark for too long.

 _If he's so worried about my safety, why am I walking to the castle alone?_ Hermione thought to herself.

"You're not alone."

Hermione squeaked. She was too startled to manage a good scream, but couldn't keep from emitting a very loud, very embarrassing screeching noise. Not made of lace, indeed.

"There is no need for that level of noise, Miss Granger. It's only me," a dusky voice slipped into her ear as she turned to face Severus Snape.


	6. Curiouser and Curiouser

Chapter Six: _Curiouser and Curiouser_

Hermione tried to catch her breath. Severus Snape had scared her senseless. She unleashed her fear upon him, "What kind of person does that? Sneaking up for no reason! I don't even…" She threw her hands into the air in exasperation.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Snape walked alongside Hermione, his eyes focused on the castle gates some distance in front of them.

"Why are you out here? Do you have an invisibility cloak? Did you read my mind? What are you–" Snape cut her short,

"Easy there. One at a time. There is only one invisibility cloak that I know of, but I am extremely skilled at disillusioning myself. So, no, I do not require a cloak. I cannot… _directly_ read minds without eye contact, Granger, but I did read your feelings. Legilimency allows some range for my ability to read your emotional responses. I am out here, because I am also a member of that _pitiful_ Order and I am _required_ to attend the meetings, like it or not."

Hermione sighed,

"I do like it," she heard him scoff but continued anyway, "Aside from Fred and George, and Dumbledore of course, you're the only one that even comprehends the amount of darkness we are dealing with. I feel like…well, even if you still hate me, I feel like you have a clear understanding of what this war really means."

"I do not hate you," Snape's words hung in the air between them.

It was silent for a while. Hermione could only hear their footsteps and the night wind as they walked through the grass. She managed to catch a few glances at Snape through her peripheral vision. His pale skin reflected the soft glow of the moonlight, but his dark cloak and black hair obscured most of his body from her view.

Everyone had always called him a 'greasy git' and a loser, but Hermione had never shared those sentiments. In fact, as she stole a glimpse at his long locks, she noticed the fineness of the strands, like the silk of spider webs. With each gust of the autumn wind, wisps of his hair floated across his cheekbones, down his shoulders, and onto his broad back. It was long, like Lucius's, but natural and thick. The Malfoys' hair looked like one more vanity charm would catch their scalp on fire. If Snape had ever used a vanity charm, Hermione knew it had to have been a direct order from the Dark Lord.

He walked in step with her, mirroring her movements. His hands were stuffed into his pockets in a relaxed way that Hermione had never witnessed before. Snape's eyes roamed the dusky horizon. The sky stretched out before them was littered with stars, like spilt salt upon a table top. He inhaled sharply and turned to Hermione,

"Yes, I do know what this war means. The pain…the pain is _nothing_ compared to the reward that my suffering will eventually yield. I only wish that Albus, the old _fool_ , would have allowed me to go it alone. There was no reason to put you in danger. Now, I'm afraid, there is no turning back."

"I don't care if I can't go back," Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed his arm gently, forcing Snape to turn to her, "It doesn't matter. Voldemort will kill me just as swiftly if I weren't helping you. I'm Harry's best friend. That title alone will seal my fate. At least I can help you, or make it easier on you. Maybe you can work harder if there is less pain…maybe I…I don't know, Professor…I'm just not going to be a victim of this war anymore. I am not going to wait for someone else to decide my lot."

"I admire that about you. I always have, I think," Snape said as he stared at her hand on his arm, long enough to make her pull it away. He seemed tense, like he was hiding something. Hermione turned away and faced the castle, feeling uneasy about this kinder side of Snape. But, perhaps their cordiality would be mutual after all.

"Hermione," his voice was barely above a whisper, as if he had trouble saying the words, "When we are alone, it's Severus."

Then, with the quickness of a stag, he dissolved into the blackest smoke. The remnants of his apparition engulfed Hermione, warming her skin like a hot bath, stirring her hair like a whirlpool, lifting her up into the night air. The feeling was gone as fast as it had come, and she was alone in the darkness once again.

Back in her bedroom, Hermione slipped out of her robes and grabbed her Charms textbook. _There has to be some way to minimize the damage that Voldemort's spells have without him noticing a change in the spells' severity…_ she thought as she flipped the pages. After leafing through multiple chapters to no avail, a dark brown parchment slip fell out of the book and onto the floor. Hermione picked it up and began to read:

 _The Animus Hex (circa 1462 AD):_

 _Before his work with Nicolas Flamel on the Sorcerer's Stone, Corvin Lomiarti created a complex curse referred to as the Animus Hex. These 'hexes' allowed two wizards to be permanently joined with a magical bond on each wizard's soul. This unbreakable bond would allow any charms cast on one wizard to be shared with the other, if so desired. Unlike the common Effingo Charm (circa 1138 AD), which is used to copy a spell's effects and then spread those effects onto other wizards, the Animus Hex was unable to allow the effects of a charm to remain on both wizards at the same time. So, one wizard would be the host, and the other would steal the effects from their bond mate. However, the effects of a certain charm were always fainter when shared, so Lomiarti's work was discarded in the year 1499 due to the spell's weakness and to the curious side effects. It should be mentioned that one of the main and most scandalous side effects of the Animus Hex is an uncontrollable need to –_

The page was torn from that point on. Hermione couldn't believe what she had stumbled upon. With some minor changes, the Animus Hex might allow Snape to push off the effects of Voldemort's curses onto a willing 'bond mate.' Hermione didn't care about the side effects. If this was the key to ending Severus' suffering, she would do it, no matter what it took.

But, this blurb mentioned nothing about how to perform the hex, or what incantations were required. Hermione tucked the parchment into her bag and decided that she would visit the Charms professor first thing in the morning.

Hermione waited outside the classroom. The chatter of Flitwick's first year students mixed with their failed attempts at moving a marble across their desks reminded Hermione of her first year at Hogwarts. She still had a scar across her eyebrow from that traumatizing game of wizard's chess during their hunt for the Sorcerer's Stone. Flamel's work, or at least that of his comrade, was back to haunt her, it seemed.

She only had to wait a few more minutes before the students rushed out of the classroom in a rumbling, talkative herd. When they cleared the portal, she poked her head in the room,

"Professor Flitwick? Did you get my owl this morning?"

"Oh," Flitwick greeted her with a big grin, "Yes! I haven't had a free moment to reply, you see. Wonderful Ember owl, though. He really is quite the find."

"Thank you, Professor."

"What was it that you were researching, Hermione? I'd love to help," he said as he sat down on the edge of his desk across from her.

"Well, I found this parchment in a book of mine," she passed the parchment to him, "and I wanted to follow up on how to use the spell, or if it was even possible."

After reading over the torn page, Flitwick nodded,

"Oh, it's possible. It's also a load of shite, as far as Charms work is concerned. Lomiarti is renowned for being little more than a squib by today's researchers. His hex was a disaster. I wrote a paper on failed charms in my seventh year. What do you want with this?" Flitwick held the parchment out to her like an unwanted Christmas fruitcake.

"I was just curious, I guess," Hermione shrugged, "Do you remember the book you used for your research? Maybe I could start there."

"Well, nothing wrong with inquisitiveness! I wish more students were like you, dear. All these first years think they can squeeze by with a minimum amount of work…but, apparently they haven't been to potions yet," Flitwick winked at her. She laughed politely.

He started rummaging in his desk drawers. After he found some scratch paper, he wrote down what appeared to be a last name.

"Mendervon? Is this the author of that book?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. I haven't seen that text in forty years and I couldn't tell you the title to save my life, but if anyone has it, it's our library," Flitwick beamed, "Please keep me updated about your research. You never know where your curiosity will lead you!"

Hermione thanked him and headed to the library. _You don't have to tell me about curiosity_ , she thought to herself, _I know exactly where that road leads_. Her fingertips traced the scar on her brow as she strode down the hall and across the courtyard. It was a brisk day, and all of the students were outside after their lunch break, soaking up the sunlight, and waiting on their next class to start. Their smiles and laughter powered Hermione onward. More innocents were disappearing every day, and now she finally had a spell that could save them all, one way or another. If she could help Professor Snape, he could help end this war, she was sure of it. She trusted him to do just that, and it had been a long time since Hermione could trust anyone.

When she got to the library, she headed straight for the 'M' shelves.

"Mencart, Mencase, Mendelev…Mendson," Hermione whispered as she searched for the name. She checked the card again to confirm the spelling, and then she spent the next hour going through the entire 'M' portion of the library, looking for any books out of order. Exhausted, she slumped into a chair and threw the paper at the shelf in frustration.

Upset at herself for littering, Hermione dug into the shelf to fetch her paper. Her fingers found the wooden backing to the bookcase, and then she felt a separate binding beneath her hand. It was wedged, in between the shelf and the backing, and try as she might, Hermione could not bend the book away from the crevice. She moved the other books aside to reveal the trapped text. There, in dirty, barely legible letters, Hermione saw the name "Mendervon" etched onto the gray cover. With a generous amount of force, she was able to shove it through the bottom of the shelf and it fell onto the desk below it.

The cover felt like it was about to disintegrate if Hermione breathed too hard onto its binding. Thankfully, the writing was legible, even if the edges of the pages were stained and tearing. With a few fortification charms, it would be good as new. She took it to the librarian's desk to check it out.

"I'm terribly sorry, Hermione, but this is missing its card. Finder's keepers, I suppose! Hope it's a good read," Her high-pitched voice reminded Hermione of banshee screeches, but she politely thanked the librarian and pocketed the text in her robes.

Back in her quarters, Hermione fed Ashes and cracked open the text. But, before she could flip to the contents, she heard a knock at her door.

"Come in," she called out.

There was no response.

" _Come in!"_

Nothing.

She reluctantly left her spot on the sofa and threw open the door. There was no one in the hall, but tacked neatly next to her portrait, there was a small note. Plucking it from the wall, Hermione noticed the familiar handwriting.

 _Your presence is still required in my office tonight, however; I must cancel our tutoring session. I have some pressing matters to which I must attend. Please be prompt._

 _S.S._

The note, engulfed in flames now that she had finished reading it, fell to the floor and continued to burn.

Hermione was confused. Would she ever have a proper healing lesson?

"Hermione," a thick, sultry voice melted like warm syrup over her ears. She spun,

"Professor LaBeaux," the warning she received from Sirius bust into her consciousness, "What brings you to the dungeons?"

"Just looking for the lab, darlin'. Care to join me?"

For some reason, Hermione felt like his invitation was no accident. The labs were on the other side of the hall. He would have passed them to get to her portrait. Her heart started pounding.

"Well," she smiled as sweetly as she could, "I'm afraid you've passed them. Here, let me show you."

Silently, she locked her portrait and led the American down the hall.

"So, what's a nice girl like you doing burning paper in the corridor?" He laughed at her.

"Oh, just an accident."

"I see. Keeping secrets is a dangerous game, little lady. Trust me," a slick grin curved up into his cheek like a scar. Hermione decided that she certainly did not trust him. What secrets was he keeping?

"Here we are," Hermione opened the door to the laboratory, "Is there anything else I can help you with, Remy?"

"No, mam. But, I wonder if you could spare a moment later tonight and join me for a bite, perhaps?"

 _What sort of bite?_ Hermione could feel the blood rise in her cheeks. She faked disappointment,

"I'm dreadfully sorry; Professor, but I have an appointment with Professor Snape later tonight."

"Do you really? How odd. So do I. Perhaps I will have the pleasure of seeing you there," with a gentle sweep under her arm, the American bent to kiss the back of her hand.

"I hope so," Hermione lied. Her hand was on fire. She couldn't shake off the creepy, wet feeling of his lips on her skin, "Good luck with your potions, Professor."

"Thanks, honey. See you tonight."

Hermione swiftly walked back to her portrait and locked it behind her. Ashes flitted to her shoulder, noticing her distress.

"Be thankful you're an owl, Ashes. People are horrid."

Hermione knocked lightly on his portrait. She waited for what felt like five minutes before attempting to push her way inside. It was unlocked.

"Severus?" The living area was empty, and meticulously clean.

Just when she thought she was alone, a dark form appeared before her in the doorway to his bedchamber. Hermione's heart stopped. She knew the gleaming mask that the figure wore all too well. Not three feet from her was a Death Eater, wand in hand.

She wanted to scream, or run; anything would have been better than the frozen stare she had on her face. Slowly, she backed up toward the portrait door, hoping that this was another Lucius-inspired nightmare.

 _This isn't real. Wake up. Please, wake up._

The Death Eater lifted his hand and the portrait slammed shut behind her. Definitely real.

Hermione backed up anyway, trying to put as much distance between them. Her hand quivered as she reached for her wand. Then, it spoke,

"I suppose I look pretty convincing after all."

It took Hermione's brain only moments to process the silky sonorous sound of Serverus' speech.

"And I suppose you enjoy scaring me out of my wits! First outside the castle, and now this! You're a bloody bastard is what you are, and I have half a mind to –" Hermione's raging tirade was brought to a sudden halt as Snape swiftly stepped in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his chest he was so close.

"I am truly sorry if I have _upset_ you," Snape said softly as he lifted the mask from his face, "Thank you for coming."

Grasping for some foundation in reality and thankful that she wasn't dead, Hermione asked what he needed her for, if it wasn't potions or healing work.

"I have a meeting tonight with LaBeaux, and I need to make sure that I have our conversation recorded in a pensive. However, my mind will be consumed with Legilimency. It is vital that I know his _intentions_. Then, I must leave for a… _revel_ with the Dark Lord. So, I need you to listen in. I would ask Albus, but he is not at all fond of tight places, you see."

"Tight places?"

Severus paused in front of her, his eyes searching her face like a hawk searches a grass field for movement, for any signs of life. She could smell him. That scent of wintergreen and earth forced her mind to return to her dream. Hermione wondered, as she looked at the Death Eater mask in his hand, if he would be able to save her, or if her dream would come true and he would betray her. She trusted him now, but she had trusted people before, only to be disappointed. In the middle of her thought, she watched as his hands quickly reached into his bookshelf, and his fingers traced what Hermione recognized as an ancient rune. The rune glowed brightly for a few moments, and the bookcase opened to reveal a small, coffin-like space.

"You will be able to see and hear everything. However, no matter what happens, even if it is something terrible, you _must_ _not_ make a sound. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded.

Carefully, as if handling a small bird, Snape lifted Hermione into the box.

"You are the only one that I can rely on right now, Hermione. Not. A. Sound," he said and he shut the door.

She was a small girl, to be sure. If she brushed a bit over a meter and a half, it was on a good day. But, this space was tight indeed. Between the books, Hermione could see the entire room as clearly as if she were standing in it. Silently, she cast a minor _Protego_ charm to make sure her breathing could not be detected. She was sure Snape had cast wards, but Hermione was not one to take any chances.

The minutes felt like hours as she watched Severus move through his living room. He had hidden his mask beneath his robes, and sat on the couch with his back to her. Every now and then, he would stand and pace in front of her, checking and rechecking the bookcase for any betraying edges or noise. Then, a loud knock resounded throughout the room. Snape locked eyes with her once more, turned, and pulled his portrait away from the wall.

"Severus, how good of you to have me," Remy's usually charming accent took on a gravelly growl as he spoke to Snape.

"Remington. Do come in. Can I interest you in some tea? Something…stronger, perhaps?" Severus as the entertainer was a very unnatural state for him.

"No, no. Thank you. I'm not used to quarters as nice as yours. There are such _fine_ things in this school. I don't think I'll ever leave."

The men shared a laugh.

"On the contrary, every day here is usually a torment for me," Severus admitted.

"How can it be? Especially when you have that _gorgeous_ piece of ass working right under your nose! Fuck. She smells like caramel. Good enough to eat," Remy's fangs flashed like bits of steel.

"Oh? What member of our staff has prompted such… _enthusiasm_?"

"Hermione Granger, your mediwitch."

Hermione felt herself go ill. She knew Remy was only after one thing, but to hear it aloud was another thing entirely.

Severus was silent for a while, slowly drinking from his teacup. Then, he nodded,

"I have become acquainted with her as of late."

"Oh, _have_ you! I hope you won't mind my rummaging through your leftovers then!" Remy's laughter roared through the sitting room.

"I fear you hold me in a higher esteem than what I am worth. When I say _acquainted_ , I'm afraid that a brief meeting is the only experience we have shared," Severus deflected Remy's crudeness and attempted to regain some civility in their conversation.

"So, she's fresh meat then? I like her more and more each day. In fact, I had hoped to meet her here. I was even willing to _share_."

 _I was alone with him earlier. He followed me to my room. He lives inside the castle. If I'm ever alone, he could find me. Sirius even warned me! How stupid could I get?_ Hermione could not stop the fear and frustration from flooding her senses.

A tense silence filled the air. It was broken by a low snarl.

"I am afraid that I do not… _share_ ," a deep growl rippled through the room. It sounded like a warning.

"Well, shit, Severus. You might have a dick after all! Lucius likes to paint you out to be some sort of… _deviant_. He says you never join in much at his parties."

"Do you know the Malfoys personally?" Severus' voice had not lost its edge.

"I do. Lucius and I go way back, and that wife of his. Jesus Christ. The stories I've heard about what he does to her are _interesting_ , to say the least."

"May I be quite frank?" Severus set his tea down on the table beside him.

"Yes, sir, you may," the werewolf replied sarcastically. That same, sharp smirk never left Remy's face.

"Are you also acquainted with the Dark Lord?" Severus' voice was barely audible.

There was a long pause. Then, Remy scrunched up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark and said,

"I have heard about you from members other than Malfoy, Brother. You're our Lord's right-hand-man, aren't you?"

"I would never _presume_ that the Dark Lord _needs_ any man," Severus spat.

"No, no. It's just that, well, I was told to come to you, and let you know that if you need anything, I am at your service, along with my…particular talents," Remy bent his head solemnly for a moment.

"I appreciate your presence, Brother. You would serve me best by making sure this new Order doesn't get too out of hand. The Dark Lord would not be pleased if _Potter_ was able to erect that building easily. You are a welcomed advisor to Alsgard. Use your position."

"Alice should never have earned that position. I was the next in line. She's a worthless squib, and a fucking mudblood to top it off. At least you have this old fool of a headmaster wrapped around your finger," LaBeaux's voice turned violent, and his face folded into a sneer.

"He is… _tiresome_. I'm very glad you stopped by, but I regret that I must attend to other matters tonight. Do mind your step around the castle. Alerting Potter to your _sentiments_ would not bode well for either of us. Try to focus on Alsgard and don't make too many enemies. I think you may have already ruined a relationship with one of your own kind," Snape stared at Remy with fervor, digging into his brain.

"Yes, it seems that I have. But, that wolf only wants me out of the way. He's too cowardly to bring it out into the open. Don't you worry about him, sir, I've got a plan," Remy stood and shook Snape's hand, "Oh, and Severus? If you see that little _lady_ , do give her my best."

The portrait door slammed and Severus was alone in the room again. He warded his door and locked it behind LaBeaux. Then, he moved to the bookcase and lifted Hermione out of the box. His hands didn't leave her shoulders. She looked at him in the eyes, trying to stay composed, willing herself not to cry. But, the tears came anyway. She quaked with a mixture of fear and rage as her cheeks ran with salty sobs. Suddenly, Snape pulled her in and folded himself around her, holding her close to his body. Hermione leaned into him, as if he were the only thing holding her up. All thoughts of not trusting him fled from her mind, and she thought, if only for a moment, that they could actually be friends.

He broke the embrace, and set her on the couch. Carefully, his wand touched her temple and he placed her memory in the pensive. He produced a kerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

"Thank you, Severus. I'm sorry about my…emotions right now. It's just that…I feel so _violated_ by his view of me. I know it's not your problem, but –"

"No one will harm you, Hermione. _Ever_. Not if I can help it," Snape stood and fastened his mask on his face, "I will return. If you wish, you may stay here for the evening. There is an extra bedroom and a bath down the hall. No use venturing out there alone tonight while I'm not here."

Hermione nodded and thanked him.

"Don't open the door for anyone until I return," Severus told her.

"Alright. Severus?"

"Yes, Hermione," Snape's full attention was on her every movement.

"Be careful."

With that, Hermione watched as the mask and cloak vanished, leaving only a scent of Wolfsbane lingering in the air.


	7. Any Road Will Get You There

Chapter Seven: _Any Road Will Get You There_

Hermione lay awake in Snape's extra bedroom. She had searched for his potions cabinet in order to get a head start on some work, but his chambers were locked. Luckily, she still had Mendervon's text in her robes. After reading chapter after chapter about failed spells, she finally came upon Lomiarti's charm.

 _Although Corvin Lomiarti had the right idea, the Animus Charm (or the Animus Hex as it is fondly referred to today) failed in many ways. Even attempting this spell comes at the cost of blood, pain, and a piece of one's soul, and for that, Mister Lomiarti flounders most miserably in his magical ability._

 _Lomiarti and Nicolas Flamel had a long-standing friendship. Some wizards would later claim that more than just a friendship began to surface. Nevertheless, it is known that Flamel allowed Lomiarti to cast the Animus Hex with him, thus sealing their perpetual bond. Later in life, found in Flamel's recently published letters to his sister, Flamel's work on the Philosopher's Stone blasted him into the spotlight. But, he never fully recovered from the side effects of Lomiarti's disaster. Apparently, after Lomiarti's mysterious death, Flamel realized that the absence of his friend caused him physical distress. Many critics claim that, in attempting to halt that pain, Flamel concocted the first dose of The Elixir of Life, which was a resounding success. In spite of his companion's magical folly, Flamel proved to be the most astounding wizard for ages to come. His work continues to surprise us today._

 _Lomiarti did not succeed so well as his dear friend. A few weeks after Flamel's marriage, Lomiarti was found dead in his attic, penniless and alone. If that were not enough of a tragedy, critics found nothing of merit in any of his works except for the Animus Charm. However, after a long string of bizarre deaths and suicides befell those known to have cast it, the Animus Charm was discarded and deeply ridiculed._

 _The actual spell is verbal, blood-binding, and wandless, common for spells in Lomiarti's time due to its creation in the mid-fifteenth century. Lomiarti's incantation was scratched into the walls of his apartment, and most of them called for the spell to be read in Italian, "Dò la mia anima voi." In order for the spell to be a success, two wizards would need to press their palms together in front of their chests and repeat those words simultaneously. However, Lomiarti's spell called for blood sacrifice as well. After the recitation, both wizards would carve a Tiwaz rune into the other's chest with the same blade. The wizard who would be giving out the majority of the magical sharing would bleed first. Spells are thought to be shared by some type of mental telepathy, but these claims are unfortunately only rumors now. Naturally, all of Lomiarti's spell creation tactics were considered barbaric, even for the time. In the present day, very few bloodletting spells survive. In fact, in the following chapter, bloodletting is the least of one wizard's worries as he attempts to conjure entire species of…_

Hermione didn't bother to read any further. She had what she wanted. Closing the book, she decided to venture into the pantry for something to eat. Snape's quarters were spacious enough to house an entire kitchen, and she enjoyed looking at his culinary choices. It was extremely late. She was sure he would be home soon, and she was reluctant to go to sleep without telling him how much she appreciated his kindness.

After she fixed a small plate, she returned to the bedroom and let herself relax. Later that night, or likely the early morning hours, Hermione awoke with a start.

 _When did I doze off? What time is it?_

Snape's enchanted window showed a moonless night sky, but before she could search for her wrist watch, she hear a loud crash in the sitting room. She pulled her wand from her robes and ventured out into the hall as quietly as she could. As she peered around the corner, the only thing her brain seemed to register was the amount of fluid that was smeared across the floor. It was thick and dark, like chocolate syrup, but as Hermione bent to touch it, her hand came back as red as one of the roses she had seen in the castle gardens. She stared at her fingers, shocked and in awe at the color, but another crash broke her trance.

"Severus? Severus!" she shouted as she ran, slipping on some of the blood as she tried to search his chambers for the source of the noise.

Then, she saw him. Snape was drenched and shivering on the floor in front of his bed frame. His mask hung off his face at an awkward angle, and his robes were soaked through. Hermione searched his countenance for any signs of consciousness, and began to tear his cloak and mask from his body. With her wand, she lifted him up off the floor and onto the table across the room. His entire torso gleamed with fresh carnage, his skin torn and gaping from multiple wounds. Snape's face was almost unrecognizable due to the violence that was surely inflicted on it moments before.

Most of her healing spells were in place, along with a blood replenishment spell she had taken from Snape's notes. She was cleaning off some of the dried blood by the time she noticed that he held something in his hand. She dug into his palm and pulled out tufts of bright, long blond hair.

 _Lucius._

Hermione checked his vital signs. His pulse was low, but he was alive. She noticed that some of the gashes remained unchanged by her repairing charms. She went back to her robes and pulled out a medical kit her mother had sent her when she got the job. Hermione had no idea how to sew a person back together, but she had to try.

It was a good thing that Snape remained unconscious. When Hermione surveyed her needlework, she was more than disappointed. His scars would not heal nicely. Still, he was stabilized, and she decided to work on cleaning up the rest of the flat. After about twenty minutes or so of casting cleansing charms, she returned to Snape's bedchamber to check on him again. He was still out cold, but his pulse and breathing had almost returned to normal. Once she was able to take a deep breath, Hermione replaced his bandages, and lifted his body once more to place him on the bed.

Now that she had access to his potions cabinet, Hermione began to brew multiple pain draughts and healing elixirs for when he came around. The sun began to peek through the windows before she heard the first moans from her patient.

"Hermione…Her…mi…"

"Severus! It's okay. You're home. I'm here," Hermione rushed to his side.

His eyes fluttered and began to search the room, trying to acclimate himself to his surroundings. His gaze fell on Hermione, and she could see the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. She let out a huge sigh of relief,

"God. You're alive."

"How long…was I…" his voice was barely audible.

"All night. I'm bottling some potions for you now. What happened, Severus?"

Snape's face darkened, and he closed his eyes,

"Malfoy brought a muggle girl…to the revel and…I tried to…I tried to stop him. The Dark Lord tortured him for…for breaking the rule…and me…for _interfering_."

"But, I'm sure you could easily defeat Malfoy. You have before. Why did you –"

"I had to… _obey_ ," Severus coughed, grimacing at the pain.

She paused, sick at the thought of Snape having to obey Voldemort, and then asked him,

"Is there anything else I can get for you?"

He shook his head, so Hermione distilled the rest of the potions and left them on his bedside table. He nodded a thanks and quickly fell asleep. How had he survived this long? Hermione had been cursed by Bellatrix Lestrange once before, but she was sure that Snape had to have endured hundreds of times that amount. Yet, still he survived. As she looked upon his face, she wondered what kept him going. As she left the room, she felt more resolved than ever to use the Animus Charm as soon as she could. She would not stand idly by and watch the greatest wizard of her age be reduced to a bloody pulp after he had fought so hard to save their lives.

She sent an owl to Albus, informing him that Snape's classes would need to be cancelled, and then made her way down to the infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey for their appointment.

The infirmary was a wreck, but that was to be expected with twice the students in twice the classes. Apparently, the American transfigurations third years had a nasty time trying to turn grapes into lavender robes. Madam Pomfrey was up to her neck in scores of purple, sweet-smelling students – black robes unchanged.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione laid a careful hand on the mediwitch's shoulder.

"Oh! Hermione. There you are. I've been giving out Skin-toner potions every thirty minutes. They should be good for another ten minutes or so. Come with me," Pomfrey's tone was flustered, but blunt, like a general barking orders to troops in a war. Based on the number of pitiful patients, Hermione could definitely see the resemblance.

In Madam Pomfrey's office, Hermione sat scrutinizing the tomes and notes strewn about the room. She began to organize the space in her head. So much could be improved with just a little extra care. One of these days, if she survived the Dark Lord's assault, she would be able to heal the people in this castle and brew potions with…

"So, how is he?" Madam Pomfrey asked out of politeness, not interest.

"He's barely making it through the day. How did you do it? It's killing him," Hermione tried to keep her tone away from accusatory, but she blamed Poppy for deserting Severus in the height of the war.

"Well, he's a Death Eater, not a broom maker. It goes with the territory, if you ask me."

"But, how did you keep him alive this long? I read your notes that you sent, and I feel like you ran into dead ends more than you succeeded," Hermione bristled.

Poppy shifted her weight in her chair and pulled at the edges of her stained purple apron. She looked out the window, into the lake and said,

"You know, when He-who-must-not-be-named threatened my family for the first time, I thought to myself, 'Poppy, you have a duty and you cannot let your fear stand in the way of your life's work.' And, for a long time, that thought kept me going. I mended Severus Snape without batting an eye. I ripped him away from the edge of death many times. When I went to bed, my arms were caked with his blood. I kept at it. Then, the owls started showing up. First, it was hate mail and more death threats. Then, all of my letters would burn or explode upon delivery. That man has a lot of enemies. My hands are still scarred from trying to save some of those pages. More and more hexed letters arrived each day until I had to put up wards to keep them out. One night, Death Eaters set fire to our back shed, and they were about to burn down our home. If it hadn't been for Albus' swift arrival, I would probably be dead. My children couldn't go outside. I could floo here for work, but leaving my family alone in the house was like abandoning them on a sinking ship. Then, I sent a letter in return. I told them I quit, and if he would leave my family and I in peace, I would leave Hogwarts forever. Then, the letters stopped coming, and I stopped healing Severus."

"Poppy...I had no idea. But, you can't trust him! Voldemort will kill you just for interfering with Death Eater business. Just because he stopped sending hate mail doesn't mean he won't come after you," Hermione gaped at Poppy's betrayal, but somewhere inside of her, she wondered if she could have left her family every day either.

"No, it doesn't. All I can hope for is that I'm not worth the trouble. Besides, the attacks weren't from _him_. Severus is in his inner circle. So, naturally, he was targeted by the little underlings. You, though...you're Harry's best friend and you're the new mediwitch. You're the new target, dear. Please forgive me when I admit that I'm not sorry," Poppy stared at the desk. Her eyes were dark with worry and fear. She looked up at Hermione, "If you are able to save him from a mortal wound already, then I'm afraid my tutorials won't do you any good. You're better off brewing stasis potions."

"I have, and they help, but I need something more," Hermione took a deep breath, "Have you heard about the Animus Charm?"

"The Animus Hex, you mean," Madam Pomfrey's visage became violently angry, "I know exactly what you are thinking Miss Granger, and it is out of the question. Can you even begin to comprehend the amount of danger you will put yourself in? The pain? You haven't the foggiest idea!"

"But, Lomiarti's research showed that the effects of a spell on the host lessened when they transferred to the symbiont. It shouldn't be a problem. I've also been working on a potion that might - "

"You will kill yourself trying to save that man, and you plan to rip your soul apart in the process. You're just a child. He'll never perform the incantation. Never," Poppy raised her eyebrows defiantly as she stalked out of the office and slammed the door, leaving Hermione alone and livid.

Hermione all but sprinted back to the dungeons with her notes on the Animus Charm that she had wanted to show to Poppy now stuffed deep in her robes. _That woman is blinded by fear!_ The damp halls of the dungeon echoed Hermione's angry footfalls. She burst into Snape's labs and shoved the door closed behind her. Steadying herself on the doorframe, she took long, deep breaths and turned to face the cauldrons. The afternoon sun burst in through the high, circular, enchanted windows and warmed the sandy stucco walls of the lab. Shafts of light struck the old, wooden tables like reeds in a pond, fading and pulsing with every passing cloud or soaring bird. Tiny flakes of dust stirred in the air, and the orange sun began to sink into the trees of the Forbidden Forest, shining down on the Order building on the lawn. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Hermione noticed someone working at the copper cauldrons in the back.

"Remus?" she called.

"Hermione," the werewolf's voice resounded across the lab's cathedral ceilings, "I'm so happy to see you. You look simply radiant."

"Thank you," Hermione crossed the room and smiled at Remus, "I don't feel very radiant."

He pulled her into a warm hug, his arms squeezing her ribs and his scruffy cheek scratching her temple. She asked him if he had looked in on Professor Snape while she was away.

"Severus is still sleeping. He is stable though, thanks to you. Albus was telling me that his wounds were from a cauldron explosion. It looked pretty serious. Snape never ruins a potion. So odd..."

"Well, thanks for checking on him. Listen, before you judge me for this, can you please look at these notes and tell me if I am overlooking anything in this spell? I've tried to modify it to fit a certain situation that I am dealing with at the moment," she handed the wad of parchment over to Remus.

He studied the notes for a long time, his head resting in one of his big, scarred hands. His brow furrowed,

"I can't say that I approve of your methodology, Hermione, and a serious wizard will never consent, but…this should work, in theory."

Hermione sat next to him at the table and looked through some of the pages, double checking her work.

"I don't know what sort of...situation you've got yourself into, but I hope you know what you're doing. This spell is quite dangerous," Remus paused, "Have you…heard of any side effects?"

"Some were mentioned a few times in passing in the older texts, but I can't see how side effects could change the usefulness of the charm."

"Well, don't show this to Sirius. He'd burn this castle to the ground if he knew what you were up to."

"I think I owe Sirius an apology. He tried to warn me about Professor LaBeaux, and I didn't listen," Hermione stirred the cauldron of Wolfsbane that Remus was working on. It needed a bit more aconite, but Remus' lessons in brewing it himself were apparently quite successful.

Hermione pulled some leaves and crushed them in a mortar bowl while Remus talked,

"You know," he said, "I had always wanted to meet one of my own kind without the fur. I see them all the time in the forest, but never out in public. Fenrir doesn't really adapt well to his human side, does he? But, I had thought, even for a fleeting moment, that LaBeaux might _understand_ me. He's just…he makes me feel things that I should only feel twelve times a year."

Hermione laughed,

"He makes me feel things I should never feel! What a creep."

"A creep, eh? Who's botherin' you, darlin'?" Remy's voice echoed across the lab like a bad dream.

Hermione looked up from the potion and locked eyes with the American potions master. All of the air had been sucked from the room. In the dense silence, she felt Remus shudder with rage. Remy continued, sauntering into the chamber,

"Is it this one? He looks the type. Too ugly to even bother covering up his battle scars. How pathetic. A lost dog that nobody wants. Lupin, don't you know how your face frightens her? You make her sick."

Remus pushed the table away, the boiling potion spilling all over the floor.

"When's the last time you fucked a woman?" LaBeaux prodded, "She must have been a real troll to be able to stand seeing you over her. What was her name? Tongs? Tanks? Doesn't matter now, does it?"

His loud, garish laugh flooded the lab. Remus snarled and pulled a deathly noise from the darkness inside of him.

"Get out, LaBeaux. You're the creep," Hermione spat, tugging at Lupin's arm, "Come on, Remus."

Remus wouldn't respond to her tugs. He pulled away from her grasp and his long, dark cloak fell to the floor, soaking up the cerulean pool of unfinished Wolfsbane. The werewolves' eyes never left each other's vicious stare. Hermione watched in horror as Remington launched himself across the room and threw Remus into the stone floor.

Remus was up in a moment, his fist striking LaBeaux's flawless jaw, making patches of red blood break through his skin. His free hand was lodged against LaBeaux's throat, pinning him to the ground. Hermione felt herself edging away from the fight, unable to rip her gaze away from the brutality. Then, as quick as a rattlesnake, LaBeaux popped Remus in the ribs, knocking the air out of him. She reached for her wand, but it was too late. In a mess of skin, blood, and fur, the men transformed into hulking beasts, helpless against their feral instincts. Remus' wolf persona shouldered her into the wall, her wand flying across the table and onto the floor.

Hermione fell into the brick and stayed there, frozen in fear behind one of the ingredient cupboards. She felt her knees give out and she sank to the floor. _Why can't I move? Move! Move._ The wolves crashed through the lab, cauldrons and stools shattered in their wake. The fighting was too fast to tell who was who, and at this point, Hermione didn't care.

Then, she saw a flash of blue light come from the doorway. Wordlessly and blindingly fast, Snape cast multiple stasis curses on the pair of werewolves. She guessed it was _Petrificus Totalis_ , but she wasn't concerned with their safety anymore, only hers.

"Come on!" Snape shouted and grabbed her arm, "This spell won't last on them. Move!"

They ran for the door, their adrenaline pouring into their veins, their hearts clamoring in their chests. Once outside the doorway, Snape recast the spell again and warded the room.

"Go get Albus," he barked.

"No, you're still hurt. I can help you," Hermione swallowed her terror and managed to spot her wand on the floor, "Let me go back for my wand."

Snape grabbed her by the cloak and shook her, startling her,

"Go. Get. Albus."

Hermione sprinted for the staircases. Halfway up the third flight, she ran face to face into Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"Hermione," Professor McGonagall seemed extremely upset, "What's all the noise coming from the dungeon?"

"You have to come quickly, please," she told them, "It's Remus."

She led them back to the lab. Snape had managed to keep the wolves under control, but Hermione noticed that the spells weren't holding as long as they should be.

"Severus, what's going on?" Albus peered into the room at the werewolves, frozen mid-battle.

"Headmaster, we seem to have a bit of a predicament. Any ideas?" Severus struggled to hold the spell in place, "Whatever I try, it doesn't hold. The spells are cut into half-lives. There is less and less time between casts, and I'm running out of counter curses. Short of killing them, I'm afraid I am at a loss. Bloody wolves."

"Well," Albus replied, sighing, "No one is killing anyone. Unfortunately, we do need to access your potion stores. I believe Madam Granger has been brewing stasis potions for a while now, and they ought to do the trick."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. _How does he know everything?_

"How are we going to administer that potion, Albus?" Minerva threw another hex into the room as the werewolves started to twitch.

"Well, Madam Granger will simply have to feed it to them, I'm afraid. While we hold them in place, she can pour the potions into their mouths. Carefully," Albus smiled.

 _How can he smile at a time like this? Feed it to them? He must be joking._ He wasn't.

"Absolutely not," Severus snarled, "There is no reason to put her in any more danger. I'll go."

"No, I need you to help us hold them. She will be just fine," Albus insisted.

Hermione did not feel like she would be _just fine._ She steeled her nerves and kept her eye on the potions cabinet.

"You'll only have a few moments to grab it and administer it to one of them. Then, you need to move quickly in order for us to replace our spells. Then, the second one. Do you understand?" Snape laid a hand on her shoulder, "You can do this. _Focus_ , Granger."

"Go!" Minerva shouted.

Hermione bolted, running straight for the cabinet. She fished around for a few seconds, pulled out two of the vials, and ran for one of the frozen wolves. Its golden eyes followed her hands as she began to pour the stasis potion. The spells were freezing fewer of their movements, and she could see fangs try to sink into her fingers. Then, she ran into a corner. After what seemed like an eternity, only one of the wolves began to move again. Flashes of blue light filled the lab, then Hermione ran back. Just as she poured the final drops into the wolf's snarling jaws, she felt a heavy paw connect with her skull, and she fell to the ground. The last thing she remembered was the smell of the icy cold Wolfsbane potion that covered her cheek as it slammed into the stone floor.

She awoke to Harry and Ron playing with surgical tubing like it was a slingshot. They were laughing, exchanging pretend blows and failing to whisper at a level suitable for Poppy's liking. She watched them for a moment through her eyelashes, enjoying their childhood, knowing it would be lost to this war, one battle at a time. Hermione shuddered to think of all the hospital beds that would be filled, all the friends vigilantly sitting at them.

"Hey..." she was surprised at how weak her voice was.

"'Mione!" Ron all but launched out of his chair.

Slingshots forgotten, Harry reached for her hand,

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Probably better than I look. Where's Remus? Is Severus alright?"

"Well, they're still trying to get him to...ya know, _calm_ down," Ron told her as tactfully as possible, his face betraying his poorly hidden anxiety.

"Who? Remus?"

"No," Harry looked puzzled, "Snape. He lost it. Probably upset about how they trashed his classroom."

"Speak of the devil..." Ron muttered.

Hermione started to move, and she tried to sit up. However, her body barely responded to her demands. The boys helped her get comfortable, and when she looked up, she saw a familiar blackness at the foot of her bed.

Snape met her gaze and the two boys scooted away, leaving Hermione alone with him but eyeing him the whole time. He stood there, at the edge of the mattress, his eyes fixated on her bruised face. After a few moments, he asked her,

"Are you alright?"

She smiled,

"I have no idea. I feel fine, though. Except for my face, of course."

"Please accept my most sincere apologies. This is my fault. If I would have been there sooner...If I would have been able to control Albus's rampant idiocy...It should have been me in there. I was a fool."

"Severus," Hermione leaned forward in the hospital bed, "This is not your fault. How are you? Your lacerations on your left side, are they healing?"

"Granger, you were almost _eaten_ , and all you can think about are some cuts on my side?" He looked down at her, confused, "I believe this belongs to you."

He handed Hermione's wand over to her and sat beside the bed, flinging his cascade of robes out of his seat.

"Listen," he lowered his voice, "Remus is with Sirius. Black has more... _experience_ in this matter. However, LaBeaux is on the eighth floor, locked in the Headmistress's office. She has asked that he be dismissed, but..." Severus looked over his shoulder and wordlessly cast a silencing charm over them, "The Dark Lord forbids it, and has charged me with ensuring his position here at Hogwarts. To make matters worse, I have a feeling that if you were not on the Dark Lord's mind already, you most certainly are now, thanks to Remington."

Hermione cursed under her breath.

"When is Remus coming back?" she asked.

"No idea. You still have feelings for him after what he did to you?" Severus stood up and moved away from her.

"How many times are you going to accuse me of having _feelings_ for him?"

"Well, you were in the lab together. I just thought..." Severus said elusively, "I'm glad you're alright."

 _Is he...jealous?_

Hermione studied his face. His eyes were cast down at the floor, and he shifted his weight.

"Severus," she called him back, "Thank you for saving me."

He nodded,

"I also found these in your cloak," Severus held up the bits of parchment that she had shown to Remus, "and I think we need to speak... _privately_."

Then, as if he smelled them coming, Snape's scowl darkened as Albus, Harry, Ron, and Ginny rounded the corner and beamed at Hermione,

"My dear, I will admit, I have had better ideas in my time. I'm terribly sorry. Carmel fizz drop?"

He handed her the giant bag of candy from his robe pocket and winked.

"No, thank you," Hermione tried not to blame him for her predicament. ' _Feed them,' he said, 'It will be fine...' Yeah, just fine._

"Remus feels terrible about the whole ordeal, and he asked me to deliver this," Dumbledore handed a wrapped gift over to Hermione.

The box beneath the paper was wooden and unassuming. She pulled the cover away and lifted out a first edition copy of _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_ , an anonymous first-hand account of one werewolf's life and trials. The book was rare to begin with, much less a first edition in nearly pristine condition. Despite Hermione's disappointment in Remus's lack of control, she could feel her heart skip a beat as she ran her hands across the leather binding. She made a mental note to send him an owl as soon as she could get back to Ashes.

Before she could thank Professor Dumbledore for delivering her gift, Poppy came through the small crowd that had gathered, shooing people away like flies.

"Miss Granger," she scolded, "Still in bed? Come on, up! I've got a first year covered in Bargast pustules puking purple poisoned pumpkin juice. He needs this bed more than you."

Hermione stifled a giggle as Harry and Ron attempted to repeat Madame Pomfrey's skillful alliteration.

"Poppy," Albus moved cautiously, "Perhaps we should wait - "

"For what, Albus? The pumpkin juice to just _disappear_? She's a better healer than me. She'll live. Out! The lot of you," she shreiked.

"Severus - " Albus started to speak, but before Hermione could protest, it was Snape who lifted her from the bed and carried her into the corridor, adeptly dodging the first year who was sprinting to the loo.

Their trip down to the dungeons was silent. The soft flutter of Snape's thick cloak and the steady click of his boot heels against the cool, stone floor lulled Hermione's tired brain into a dull state. She rested her cheek on his warm neck, too exhausted to hold her head up any longer. As he walked, Hermione heard him whisper to her,

"Miss Granger, it has become less clear as to which one of us needs to be saved."

The darkness of the dungeon faded into blackness, and even though she was full of stress and fear from her recent trauma, she slept knowing she was safe with Severus, savior or not.


	8. Painting the Roses Red

Chapter Eight: _Painting the Roses Red_

It was dusk when Hermione awoke the next day. She pulled the duvet off of her face and saw Severus slumped in a chair beside her bed. Ashes was curled up in his bowl beside her on the nightstand, sound asleep. Snape's black locks hung in front of his face, one hand supporting his head as he dozed. His cloak and jacket lay tucked in his lap, and his collared shirt was more than wrinkled.

 _Has he been here all night and day?_

"Severus?" Hermione groaned sleepily.

His eyes opened in small slits. He blinked and studied her, breathing in sharply through his nose, stifling a yawn. He pushed his hand into the pocket of his trousers and produced a silver watch.

"Merlin. You slept through the day. Dinner is in twenty minutes," Snape's voice was deep and husky from his sleep. He stretched.

"What happened? I don't remember coming home," Hermione propped herself up on an elbow. Snape looked so...normal. She tried to adjust her view of him not as a controlling, powerful Death Eater and world-renowned, tenured professor, but a man. Just a man.

"I dropped you off, and I came back to check on you. I didn't want you to wake up alone. But, I must have fallen asleep."

"Thank you, Severus," she smiled up at him, "You know my password?"

"I know all the passwords," he admitted, a darker tone shrouded his comment. Regret. Exhaustion. Resentment.

"Listen," Hermione sat up and leaned her head against one of her tall, dark bedposts, "about the Animus Charm - "

"You must know that I could never allow it, Hermione. Absolutely not. You are in enough danger as it is," Snape turned away from her gaze.

"And you must know that if you refuse, you will die," she ignored his scoff, "Maybe not this night or the next, but one night it will be enough to kill you. And, without you here - " Hermione fought against her emotions. _Stay rational, Granger._

"I will be fine," he crossed the few feet from his seat and hovered beside her bed, his face bent to hers with an expression that she could not read, "but you will not. Do you know the effects? Do you know what you are asking me to do to you? The pain alone would kill you."

"I don't care about pain, and I don't care about what you think you can handle on your own. But, I do care about the innocent people who will certainly be destroyed if you aren't here to fight for them. Without you, this war is lost. Harry may think that this is his battle, but it's not. It's yours. And if I can take even the slightest bit of pressure off of your shoulders, I'm going to do it, no matter what the price," she took a deep breath and waited for him to respond.

He sank back into his chair, never looking away from her face. His mouth twitched, holding back words that he wanted to say. He picked at a stray thread on his shirt. Hermione could barely smell him, his scent mixed with chalk and sweat. She looked at his eyes and studied those dark irises, too shadowed to ever be brown, their blackness so deep against the stark whites that surrounded them. She sighed,

"Can you do it for me if you won't do it for yourself? Please, Severus..."

"Your soul will break in two. You will be a half of what was once a whole," his brow furrowed as he tried to bury his frustration, "This is not only dark magic, but old magic. So many things could go wrong. There are no counter curses. You will never be free of it, and if I die, the agony will maim your heart. You will know no love, no joy."

"I know," in truth, she didn't know exactly what would happen, but she knew she would rather die than let the Dark Lord win.

Snape stood, emptied his coat pocket and threw her notes onto the bed, "Then how is it that you can ask me to do this to any person, much less you?"

"Because I know you will do anything to defeat him," her words hung in the air between them, a truth and a vulnerability at the same time. He was just a man.

"We'll be late for dinner. Come. LaBeaux will be there. He may be too dim-witted for arithmetic, but he can see who's missing."

 _This conversation isn't over, Severus,_ Hermione thought as she slipped on her robes and followed him into the corridor.

The Great Hall was filled with students by the time they arrived. She felt people staring as she followed behind Severus, glares from the Slytherin tables, resentful looks from Gryffindor, and a strange wink from Albus. She knew she must look like a turncoat to her old classmates, trailing behind the potions master like a pet, but they didn't know what she knew. She knew he would save them all, and she was going to make sure of it.

All through dinner she sat beside Severus, both of them eating in silence, and she replayed their conversation in her mind. She understood his hesitation. It wasn't as if soul splitting is what everyone always wanted out of life. It would injure him just as much as her. If she died, he would be in the same situation. But, why was he so concerned about her well-being? At the end of the summer, she was still a frizzy-haired, Gryffindor know-it-all to him. What did he care if she risked her life in order to defeat Voldemort? Surely he knew that she was willing to sacrifice everything so that her friends and family would be safe. Then, Hermione remembered his comments about her relationship with Remus. Relationship? It wasn't a relationship. She refused to believe that Snape would ever be jealous of Remus Lupin. _Who knows what his motives are?_ She chewed her food in haste, reminding herself that she meant to find Remus to thank him for his gift. She could send Ashes, but she felt like a walk might clear her head.

"Severus," she broke the silence between them, "do you need me tonight?"

"No," it was a growl.

 _What's his problem?_

She pushed her chair away from the table and walked out one of the back doors to the main corridor. Remus would be with Sirius at the Order, she was sure of it. Leaving the castle was a lonely trip. With everyone at dinner, the halls were empty. She strode into the commons and the surprisingly chilly night air. Hermione was halfway to the headquarters' front steps when she heard footsteps behind her. She spun around and gripped her wand, but there was nothing. Only the ground she had already covered. Unnerved, she lit her wand and walked even faster. She was thankful that she reached the building without seeing so much as a lightning bug, much less something with the power to make the sound of footsteps.

She knocked.

"Who is it?" she could hear Sirius's muffled voice behind the door.

"Hermione," she answered and waited.

The door swung open and she saw the dark rings around his eyes as Sirius tried to smile.

"Good lord," she put a concerned hand on his arm, "Are you alright? You look like you haven't slept in days."

"Not quite days, my dear, but close. Please, come in."

As Sirius shut the door, she felt a gust of wind and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

"I assume you're here for Remus?" Sirius raised his eyebrows at her.

"Yes, but first, I'd like to apologize, Sirius. You tried to warn me about LaBeaux and I was too proud to listen. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Hermione, if anyone is to be accused of pride in this room, it is surely me. No apology needed. Come with me. He's in the back."

She followed Sirius through the main hall of the headquarters and through to the back room. She saw Remus, his eyes closed and his chest bare, the long bands of light from the fireplace dancing across his dark skin. He was bandaged in multiple places, the wounds still open in some spots, and he was bruised from head to toe. His eyes fluttered open as he strained to rise to greet Hermione. She held up a hand to stop him and he gratefully sank back onto his bench. It was shocking how, even after a day's time, Remus looked so ragged. The fight took the strength out of him. In his hand, he was clutching a bloody mound of fur.

He saw her looking at it and held it up in the air as far as his battered arm would allow,

"I got that son-of-a-bitch."

Angry, he flung it on the floor and winced from the sudden movement. She slid in next to him on the thick wooden bench and checked his stitches.

"Sirius," she smiled, "I think you might have to teach me how you got these so straight."

He smiled back at her,

"Well, magic doesn't cure werewolf bites. They just bleed and bleed. I've taped this old dog back together more times than I care to remember."

"Hermione," Remus groaned, "I am so sorry. I'm a poor excuse for a friend and a man. I promise, whatever it takes to make it up to you, I'll do it."

"Thank you, Remus. It's alright. No harm done. Thank you so much for the book. It's beautiful. I've never seen a single copy, much less a pristine first edition like that. That's more than enough apology for me," she laughed.

"Thank Merlin you like books and not platinum cauldrons!" He laughed with her, his ribs aching and making him catch his breath, "Listen, Hermione, I hope I made it clear that the Animus Hex is out of the question, but I want to remind you of how serious a spell this really is."

"She has no idea, Remus," Sirius sat across from them at the long table, "You have to tell her."

Hermione waited, looking at the two men who were struggling to find the words.

"Look, Hermione," Sirius started, "it's not just the soul splitting that seems to be the issue. The side effects are just as serious as the curse itself."

"But, I've tried to modify the spell. It could minimize the - "

"No modification would prepare you for the reality of what will start to happen to you both," Remus started to shift in his seat, strangely uncomfortable, "You will break apart, yes, but you will also be...bound."

"Have you ever loved someone, dear?" Sirius's tone was odd as he stared at her and waited for her to answer.

"I love my parents. What do you mean?"

He stumbled awkwardly through his words,

"I mean, well...you and Victor. Did you ever _love_ him?"

"I thought I did," she confessed, suddenly feeling very exposed.

Remus shook his head,

"No, no. He means...physically. Did you, you know...well, there's really no polite way to put it. When you meld your soul like this, you can only activate the spell with physical contact, yes?"

"Well, the charm calls for both palms to be pressed together to activate the initial spell," Hermione read from her notes, "Then, I believe you must touch each other again if you wish to continue to share the effects of a curse, and so on," she was starting to see where this conversation was heading.

"Look, Lomiarti made a mistake. He had no idea that only with physical contact could the two souls ever fully become whole again. You and your bond mate will start to feel that you need to...ah..." Sirius stared at the fire.

"Well, the more contact you have, the more whole you will feel, and so on," Remus spurted.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying? Because, that's ridiculous," Hermione couldn't believe her ears.

 _They mean that we will have...sexual feelings for one another? Impossible._ She couldn't wrap her head around it. Could she have feelings for him? She trusted him, yes, and she felt safe with him, but was that enough to spur some sort of emotional response? They had so little in common, and she was so young. What could she possibly offer to a man who had literally shaped the entire wizarding world with his research?

"Who are you casting this with?" Remus asked.

"I'm sorry, but I really can't say," Hermione admitted.

Without her consent, her thoughts went to the night when Severus held her, wiping her tears away, genuinely concerned for her well-being. She thought of him carrying her to her bedroom, and waking up to his sleeping face. Then she thought of his milky pale skin, marred with scars and tattoos, twisting muscles that writhed beneath his flesh. Moments ago, Severus Snape had been only a friend, a colleague, and now, she was unsure of how deep her feelings could go.

"Look, this is not ridiculous. It's quite serious," Sirius threw up his hands, "You're gorgeous, sharp as a blade, witty and kind. Anyone would have to be a fool not to see that. But, aside from your worth, your partner won't have a choice in their feelings for you. If you were a child, or an old man, those feelings would still be there in spite of either of your true desires. You really need to think about this, Hermione."

Remus nodded, thinking he was changing the subject, "How's Severus holding up?"

Sirius laughed, "I am going to give him such a hard time about his cauldron accident. He's losing his touch!"

"We've actually been working well together. It's sort of shocking really," she confessed, "He seems very...solitary."

"Well yeah, this is Snape we're talking about. If anyone knows how to be alone, it's him."

Hermione was silent. Her brain felt like it was on fire. She hoped for a moment that she would wake up, and it would all go back to the plan she had in her head. She would keep Severus alive, and they would kill Voldemort. Simple. But suddenly, her plan wasn't as simple as she needed it to be. He needed more time, and she could give it to him. The curses from his revels would be weakened by the Animus Charm, and she could focus less on healing him and more on helping with their plan of attack. It made sense, but before now, Hermione had left emotions out of the equation. Could she love him? If she did, could she watch him leave in the night, let him don his mask, knowing he would face Malfoy and Voldemort? She had to tell him the truth, as much as she would rather have ignored it and continued with her plan as if nothing had changed, he deserved to know.

"I have to go," she stood, and Remus attempted to stand with her, "Please take care of him, Sirius. Let me know if I can bring potions, anything at all."

Remus moved closer to her, heat radiating off of his bare skin as he looped an arm around her waist,

"I know how hard this must be for you, Hermione," he slowly brushed strands of unruly hair from her eyes and lifted her chin, his palm hot against her cheek, "You know that if you need someone, I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Remus. I don't know what I would do without you."

They embraced, and she felt Lupin's grip tighten more than in just a simple hug. When she broke free, she could see his face twisted in...bitterness? Maybe he was simply in pain. She helped him to his seat and hugged Sirius before stepping out into the cool air.

"You know," Sirius said as they stood in the lawn, "you don't have to do this. You don't have to sacrifice your heart if you don't want to. There must be another way to help whoever it is you're helping."

Hermione turned away from him and stared up at the castle. Inside its walls, students and teachers gathered together, laughed, loved, hurt, and lived their lives in joy and sadness. They didn't deserve to die at the hands of a selfish madman.

He went on,

"I've seen the way Remus looks at you. He looked at Tonks that way, too."

"Remus is a good friend, Sirius."

"I understand. But, whatever you decide, you need to ask yourself if you are ready to make a promise that you cannot take back. If you promise to bind yourself to someone's soul, or if you promise to keep your soul in one piece, you will have to pay for that vow one way or the other."

"Thanks, Sirius, for everything," she squeezed his hand and watched him walk back up the steps of the Order of the Phoenix.

Back in the castle, Hermione tried to practice her speech in her head. How could she tell Severus Snape, who she had to admit was almost a stranger to her, that they would be emotionally and...physically bound for eternity?

"Severus?" she knocked on his portal.

The door swung open and he let her inside.

"What do you want, Granger?" his tone was contemptuous.

Hermione was taken aback,

"Is everything alright?"

"What have you decided about our _fates_?" His tone was viciously acidic.

 _How does he know?_ Hermione waited, hoping he would explain himself. His gaze shot through her as he raised his voice,

"Apparently, it's me or the hound! And since I'm a _ridiculous_ option..." he stopped and sighed, collecting his thoughts, "I will not be bound to you, girl. You are my student, for Merlin's sake. What sort of monster -"

"I am not your student," Hermione interrupted him, "and how do you know all of this?"

"I don't need a cloak to hide myself, Granger. I followed you there."

"Why?"

"Because I, well, if anything were to happen to you...it doesn't matter why. I'm over twenty years your senior," he scoffed, almost laughing, "Bound to your soul...this is madness. What was I thinking?"

"You need my help!" Hermione felt her face flush with rage.

"And you need to heed Sirius's warnings. You cannot sacrifice your life in order to save me. He's right, you know. I know what it means to be alone and I _like it_ ," his voice was low and threatening, "I've _done things_ that would turn your stomach. I've murdered and raped and brutalized muggles - all on a whim of the Dark Lord! If you think Remus is a beast, you have no business coming within a hundred yards of me. You're just a girl."

"And you're just a man!" she shouted at him, his eyes flared with anger, "You're just a man, and you are too stubborn to take help even when it slaps you in the face. We won't _win_ without you. We won't last five goddamn minutes!" her voice echoed through his rooms, "I am not afraid of you or of what you've done, Severus Snape. You are not the orders you follow."

In a swift rush, his hand caught her by the throat, pinching her neck. He pushed her into the bookcase, and the unevenness of the shelves dug into her back. She could still breathe, but she pulled against his grip either way, fury burning deep in her chest. He held her there, his face barely an inch from hers. She watched as his eyes studied her hair, her cheeks, her mouth. His scent filled her nose, and the warmth of his body pressed into hers like a hot iron. Stark white incisors gleamed from beneath his full lips as he snarled in livid choler,

"I could kill you right here, girl. You would fear me if you had any sense at all."

"Well," she choked out a hoarse whisper, "I don't."

He dropped her and her knees buckled beneath her sudden weight. She rubbed her neck where his fingertips had bruised her skin. _He's just trying to frighten you_. She told herself to get up, and she strode out of the room without even looking back. As she shut the portrait behind her, she heard him roar. She could hear the creak of furniture as he shoved through the room. Glass shattered, and it sounded like a large bag dropped to the floor. There was another shout, weaker this time, and tears pooled behind her eyes. She wasn't sad, nor angry, but she sobbed without knowing why.

She retreated to her rooms. After a long bath, she sat with Ashes on her sofa, watching the hearth consume the pine logs one by one, their yellow-orange glow filling the den with warmth and light. She thought only of Severus for a while, and she knew she had no choice but to convince him to use the Animus Charm. He was so stubborn. Hermione decided that she would rather sacrifice her heart, or life if need be, than sacrifice Severus to his increasingly fatal injuries. She thought of her friends, Ginny and Ron and Harry. They deserved a happy life. She thought of her parents. What would Voldemort do when he moved into the Muggle world?

She had no idea how long she sat there. But, a small knock woke her from her trance, and she went to the portrait. She slowly lifted her wand from the end table and moved closer to the door. As quickly as she could, she threw open her portal and thrust her wand into the hall. In the darkness, she could barely make out a familiar face.

"Ginny!" Hermione hugged her friend, "You've got to stop scaring me like that. Are you alright? It's very late."

"I know, and I'm so sorry to drop in like this, but I am just so mad at Harry I could scream. I can't be in the Griffyndor common rooms right now, I just can't."

"Well, come in. You can stay here, of course. What happened?" Hermione was glad to take her mind off of her own problems for a change.

"He went to talk to the twins. Not only is Harry funding their weapon manufacturing, but he's agreed to plan an attack on Malfoy Manor. Fred and George talked him into it!"

"You don't think Harry can handle it?"

"Hermione. It's Lucius Malfoy. Other than Snape, he's probably the world's most dangerous Death Eater. You are so brave for working with _him_ , you know. Brave, or just really stupid," Ginny laughed, "I know Albus won't let anything happen to you, but still."

"He's not that bad, Gin, honestly. How soon does Harry want to take down the manor?"

"I don't know. December, maybe? He's an idiot. I always thought that he knew two wrongs don't make a right."

"He's under a lot of pressure, Gin. This war is coming to a head, and Harry is caught right in the middle of it. He might not act like it, but I know he needs you right now."

Ginny nodded, "I know. Men are just so..."

"Trust me, I know."

Hermione poured some tea and curled up with Ginny on the sofa. She was enjoying the company so much that she almost forgot about Severus...almost.

"Ginny," Hermione asked, "If you had to give up everything just to save someone, would you do it?"

"Depends on who it is. Malfoy? Definitely no. Harry? Yes, without a doubt. Why?"

"Just a question," Hermione tried to act casual.

"Well, my dad's always talking about costs and benefits with my mum. He says that if the benefit that you get is greater than the cost, you'll probably be okay. But, it's so arbitrary. I know it's probably not as easy as all that. Sometimes it's hard to weigh the good with the bad."

She reached out and rubbed Hermione's shoulder. _But, what if the cost is your soul? And what if the benefit is saving the people you love? How do I measure something like that?_ Ginny was right, it wasn't easy, but a dark spot in Hermione's heart told her what needed to be done.

After they decided to turn in, Ginny crawled into Hermione's bed with her, still gushing about how much she loved the bathtub, and said,

"Thank you for letting me stay, Hermione."

"Of course, Gin. Sometimes we all need a place to escape. You are welcome here any time."

"You're like the sister I never had," Ginny smiled, yawning sleepily.

"You, too," Hermione's voice caught in her throat. Ginny was so sweet, so kind to everyone. As she looked at her friend's face, eyes closed from drowsy slumber, she couldn't fathom how two people like Ginny and Voldemort could exist at the same time. Voldemort had changed everyone she knew. He was able to make a man like Harry start to think like a Death Eater. How could Severus survive a monster like that for all these years? She fell asleep trying to imagine a world without evil, a world where Ginny was safe with Harry, and a world where suffering was nothing but a bad dream.


	9. Fighting for the Crown

Chapter Nine: _Fighting for the Crown_

The next morning, Hermione awoke alone. Ginny had tacked a note onto the portrait telling her to find her at breakfast, and after she fed Ashes, Hermione headed toward the Great Hall. She waved to Ginny, and to her surprise, Harry and Ron were sitting down at the table.

"Did you guys sleep in the common room last night?" Hermione laughed.

"Yeah," Ron smiled, "Just like old times."

"Hey, since you're here, do you want to come by for dinner? I can't believe you boys haven't seen my new quarters. We could even make those butter beer cupcakes your mom was talking about," Hermione smiled.

"That sounds great, actually," said Harry, "About eight o'clock alright?"

"Great! I'll see you guys later then," Hermione left them and made her way to the faculty tables.

Severus had already eaten, and a half-drank coffee sat steaming in front of him as he flipped through a stack of ungraded exams. He didn't acknowledge her as she sat down next to him, but after a few minutes, Hermione could feel his eyes on her. She pretended that everything was normal, and buttered her toast without looking up. She refused to let him get to her.

"Can you meet today?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes," she replied at full volume, "I don't have to meet up with Harry until eight tonight."

"Come with me," he stood, tucking the papers under his arm.

She grabbed her toast and followed him into his classroom. He shoved the papers in his desk drawer and closed the door to the room.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He turned to her, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed and a scowl across his face,

"I shouldn't have hurt you. My temper is my own worst enemy, and I'm sorry," his voice was low and smooth, as if he had read it from a script, "I behaved no better than Lupin."

"I'm fine," she sat down at one of the tables and pushed her emotions aside, "Look, about the Animus charm, we have to do this. You know we do."

"No, we don't," his eyes were fixed on the floor.

"Did you hear about Harry's plan?"

"You mean the Weasley's plan," Snape scoffed, "Yes, I heard about their suicide mission. I've been running around all morning trying to find out how much Lucius knows. With Remington stuck teaching on the eighth floor during most of the day, I'm having to do it all myself. Once Malfoy discovers the plot, the Dark Lord will seize that chance. Potter is a bloody fool."

"What will happen?"

"He will take the Order to the manor, and the Dark Lord will make certain that he will be there in full force. It'll be a trap."

"No, what will happen to you?" Hermione looked at his eyes which were still focused on the cold stone floor.

"I don't know. Albus will want me to map out the manor, and the Dark Lord will want their battle plans. If I lie to him, and we lose, I'll die. If I tell the truth, he'll slaughter the entire Order, of which I am a part. If I do nothing, I'll probably die anyway."

"Then we can't lose. We have to defeat him," Hermione stared out the windows at the Order of the Phoenix, monolithic on the thick green lawn.

"Well," he sat across from her, "that's easier said than done. I'm meeting with Lucius and the Dark Lord tonight for Draco's birthday ball. So, I'll find out what must be done soon enough. Try to make up a convincing story. Anything mixed with enough truth will work just fine."

"Voldemort will be furious. I can't even imagine the look on Lucius's face when you tell him that Harry is bringing the Order there."

"I can," Snape's voice was laden with both regret and resolve, "So you'll be available later this evening? Just in case I arrive in a little more than one piece, that is."

"Yes, of course. How will I know when you return?"

"Well, Poppy used this," he pulled a long chain from his pocket from which a clear crystal hung, "When the glass glows, you'll know I'm back. It's just a motion charm. Any movement in my chambers will light it up."

"But, your portrait - "

"I've added you to the wards. It will unlock for you," he looked at his pocket watch, "I have class."

"Oh, do you need help in the lab?"

"No, thank you," his tone was so subdued. Hermione could tell that he was worried.

"Alright," she opened the door to the classroom, "and...please be careful, Severus."

He nodded and went back to his desk, stacking the papers on the corner, and gazing at the midday sun through the classroom window. As she watched him, she immediately recalled all the days she had taken his class and seen him like this. Now, she knew what he was thinking and she regretted being so hurt by his foul moods. If only she had known who he really was...

But, the truth was that she saw him differently now. The golden sunlight poured across his porcelain skin and she could see his fingers pull gently, absentmindedly at the striped feather of a quill. His dark jacket hid his scars and marks, but with the cloth stretched over his chest and shoulders, she could see him breathe ever so slightly. His profile was haloed by the bright light, and his masculine features softened as he was lost deep in thought. Without warning, Hermione felt a rush in her chest. The thought of losing him made her body ache with a sore frustration. She knew, with a terrible sinking feeling, that the next time she saw him, she would be bandaging him back together.

"When you're dealing with this type of potion burn, the simpler spells work best. While you may think that one large charm will do the trick, multiple small spells will actually heal it faster, like this," Poppy showed Hermione how to cast them, one after the other, until the tiny burns were healed.

Poppy smiled down at the American student,

"There! Good as new. Let's be more careful with Professor Snape's homework assignments, yes?"

"Thanks for letting me stop by, Poppy. I'm sorry for upsetting you the other day," Hermione said as she wrote a hall pass for the young, newly mended witch.

"No apology needed, my dear. What we do is hard. It's difficult to watch something break when it is your responsibility to hold it together. But, you're a healer now, and you must understand that the hardest wounds to mend are the ones you put upon yourself. I see that you were able to force Severus to let you keep an eye on him," Poppy pointed to the silver chain on Hermione's neck.

"Oh, he gave it to me earlier today, just in case."

"Gave it to you? You must be doing something right."

"He said you used it. Did you charm it yourself?"

"Oh, no. I used it, sure. But, that belonged to Albus. He gave it to me to keep track of Severus when he was being...difficult. I remember how I had to burst down his bedroom door one time just to mend a cursed, broken femur. Whatever you're doing, keep it up and your job will be a walk in the park compared to what I had to deal with."

"Thanks for the advice," Hermione smiled, thankful that Severus didn't shut her out completely.

She helped Poppy clean up the hospital beds and headed back to the dungeons to meet up with Ginny, Ron and Harry. After all the chaos, she was looking forward to being with her friends. Anything she could do to take her mind off of Malfoy's party was worth it.

Before she made it to her chambers, Hermione saw Snape as he was leaving his office. He was clad in brand new dress robes. The fine black wool was a stark contrast to the creamy skin of his bare neck, banded with a high French collar. Hermione was shocked at how well he cleaned up.

"Well," she smiled at him, "Don't you look sharp."

"Only the best for Draco Malfoy," the corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk.

"Are you going to be alright?"

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows,

"Isn't it your job to make sure of that?"

"Yeah, well try not to make it too hard on me," she laughed.

Snape, much to Hermione's surprise, let out a low chuckle,

"Alright, I'll try. Who knows?" He let out a long sigh, "I might not need you tonight after all."

"I'll see you later, Severus," Hermione put a reassuring hand on his arm.

Then, shockingly, Severus reached out and ran a hand down her neck. His fingertips were warm on her collarbone as he scooped her necklace out of her blouse. He pulled the crystal up and let it fall into his palm. He stared at it for a moment and let it fall back to her chest. Then, in a moment, he was gone. His dark smokey apparation pooled at Hermione's feet and billowed up, dissipating and leaving her with only the ghost of his touch on her skin. She lifted the crystal up and tried to understand what he was looking for. Hermione remembered Poppy's surprise that Snape had allowed her into his private life willingly. It must have been difficult for such a solitary man to open his home to her. She hoped he would return unharmed, but after Voldemort found out about Harry's plans, she seriously doubted that he would pity the messenger.

Later that night, Ron, Harry, and Ginny arrived along with Dobby and Remus.

"Dobby! Remus! What a pleasant surprise!" She said as Remus folded her into his chest for a hug.

"We spotted them on their way to the Great Hall and kidnapped them! I hope you don't mind the extra company," Ginny told her.

"Not at all. The more the merrier. Come in, please," Hermione lit a fire in her hearth and motioned everyone inside.

"Dobby is very happy to see Hermione," the elf's big eyes looked up at her.

"I am very happy to see you, too, my friend."

Remus was carrying a brown, parchment wrapped package,

"I thought we might need this. Harry tells me you've made us cupcakes," he pulled a large bottle of butter beer out of the wrapping and handed it to her.

"Thank you so much, Remus," she pulled glasses out of the cupboard and poured drinks for her friends.

After everyone found a spot on the couch, full from cupcakes and beer, Hermione began to notice how quiet Harry was.

"Harry," Hermione asked, "how is everything going with the Order?"

"Well, Ginny told you about the twins' plan I guess," Hermione nodded at him and he continued, "and I suppose we'll have to go forward with that. I spoke with Albus earlier and he was...less enthusiastic about it, but I don't know if we can hold off any longer. People are dying. Something needs to change, and I think we can win."

"Are you willing to take that risk?" Remus asked.

"We have to do something. I'm the one he wants. We have to try. Frankly, I'm tired of running," Ginny put a supportive arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Harry," Hermione said, "it's dangerous. I don't think you realize how many lives you're putting at risk by going forward with that type of offensive. Since when has the Order been about burning down people's homes, even if it is Lucius Malfoy?"

"So, we sit here and do nothing and wait for him to come to us? He won't do it. He'll keep killing our friends on the outskirts, keep attacking schools like Salem until there's nothing left. I won't stand idly by while that happens. I know you think the Order is meant for holding up the ideals of the wizarding world when we can't depend on the Ministry, but sometimes the Order is whatever we need it to be," Harry's voice was strained with a twinge of anger as he replied.

Ginny stepped in,

"Hey, it's late. We should probably get out of your hair."

"No, Gin, you guys can stay as long as you like," Hermione told her.

"We'll see you tomorrow, for sure. Promise," Ginny smiled at her.

"Mff mm mum duhn mum nfff?" Ron mouthed, a butter beer cupcake blocking his voice.

"What, Ronald?" Hermione laughed at him as he tried to swallow his huge cakey bite.

"Can I...uh... _borrow_ some cupcakes?"

"Take them, you prat," Hermione playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

"Dobby will come by more often to check on Hermione. Dobby is glad she is back," the tiny elf hugged her waist.

"Please come keep me company, Dobby. I would love to have you over. I've been meaning to ask you some house elf medical questions, and I could really use your advice."

"Dobby would be honored," his giant grin stretched across his face.

"Thank you all so much for coming," she waved to them as they stepped into the dungeon hallway.

"Your place is lovely, Hermione. See you at the Order meeting next week?" Harry hugged her.

"Of course!" she said as she watched them make their way back to Gryffindor tower, their chatter echoing over the stone walls.

She turned back into her chambers to find Remus still seated on her sofa, staring at the dying fire. Hermione put another pine log into the burning embers and discovered Ashes sleeping close to the coals. She moved his bowl to where he was seated and watched as he snuffled into the nest, warm and happy, his wing tips smoldering in unison with the orange glow of the fireplace.

She sat beside Remus and his arm framed her shoulders on the back of the sofa. They stared at the growing flames and the sleeping owl, and he asked,

"So, have you thought any more about the curse?"

"Not really," she lied, hoping he didn't pry.

"Alright. Listen," he turned to her, "you don't want to talk about it and I know you can take care of yourself, but please don't feel alone, okay?"

"Thanks, Remus. You've been such a good friend to me," she smiled up at him, "How have your classes been?"

"Just fine. I've been enjoying having the Americans in a few of my courses. Aside from LaBeaux, everyone has been just great."

"He's such an arse. I can't believe he is still employed," Hermione didn't like thinking about LaBeaux still living in the castle.

"Yeah, I heard from Albus that Alsgard has lifted his suspension. Apparently he'll be back to roaming the halls next week. He better not run into me, the bastard. If he does, I'll finish what we started."

"Remus. You know you can't. You'd lose your job."

"You're right, but a part of me thinks it may be worth it," he chuckled, but Hermione could tell he was serious.

"Do you agree with Harry? About the attack on Malfoy Manor, that is," she asked him.

"I can tell that you don't," he smirked, and she shook her head,

"No, I don't, but I have to be behind him completely. What else can I do?"

"You can't save everyone, Hermione."

She took a long sip of butter beer, emptying the glass,

"I'm becoming more and more aware of that fact, unfortunately."

She tried to force a smile. He put a warm hand on her cheek, trying to comfort her,

"It'll be alright. It all will."

"I hope you're right," she turned back to the fire, wanting very much to believe him.

"Merlin," he yawned, "what time is it? Oh, it's late. I better let you turn in," he stood and moved for the door.

"Well, I'm glad you came," she stood with him.

"Thanks for having me. This castle gets lonely over in the east wing."

"You know my door is always open."

He scooped her up in a big hug and she could smell his earthy scent mixed with aftershave on his neck. No matter how often Remus shaved his face, he would almost have a full face of whiskers the next day. The scruff was sharp against her cheek. She turned her face to escape his ragged jawline.

"Oh," he pulled back and ran the backs of his fingers across her cheekbone, "sorry about that."

She smiled,

He lingered, looking at her mouth, suddenly not eager to leave.

She felt his gaze and pulled back. Hermione handed him a small bag of cupcakes,

"You've got to get these out of here or I'll probably eat them all by myself," she laughed.

"Oh, don't worry. They'll be safe with me," he winked at her and turned into the corridor, "See you tomorrow?"

"Of course."

She shut the door and started to pick up the cups and plates in the den. As she carried the paper plates to the trash, she put down a treat for Ashes and glanced out the window. The moon was high and she hoped that Severus was alright. She glanced at the crystal around her neck and tried not to think about how his conversation at the manor would go.

After a while, she started to doze while catching up on some reading. Sometime in the night, she awoke to a burning sensation on her chest. She pushed her book away and quickly looked for the source, praying it wasn't a spider bite. But, she noticed the crystal glowing brightly in the dimness of her study and she climbed off the couch. She picked up her wand from her desk and ran out the door, locking it behind her. Trotting over to Snape's portrait, she waited for it to open. Only when she gripped the ebony frame did it lunge forward, allowing her entry.

"Severus?" She called out to him.

She heard a deep cry in return. She ran toward the noise, through his bedroom and into the bath. In the doorway, he was laying on his side, his hands clutching his leg. To her relief, Hermione couldn't see any blood.

"What's happened? Is it broken?" She tried to get him to straighten the leg.

"No," he gasped, "I think it's spreading."

He let out another growl of pain.

 _Spreading? How could an injury be spreading?_

She began to remove his cloak, using her wand to cut away at his pant leg, part of her was reluctant to damage such a spectacular set of robes. There, creeping under the skin of his leg, Hermione could see a deep purple stain start to make its way up his thigh. It was like a bruise, but alive.

"What the hell is that?" She looked at him for some sort of direction.

"No idea, but I can't feel my legs other than the burning," he said through clenched teeth.

 _Shit._

Hermione tried everything, even the smaller, quick charms that Poppy had shown her in the hospital wing. None of it was holding. As the curse spread, so did her fear. Severus's screams were getting more and more desperate. The pain must have been unbearable. He pulled her arm so that she was close to his face and he whispered to her,

"Just...kill me. Please. _Please_."

"No," she tried to catch her breath, "You're going to be fine. It'll be fine. Just hang on."

She ran to his kitchen and pulled out a knife from the cupboard. When she ran back to his bedroom, she tried to peel his button down shirt away from his chest. _I can't believe I'm about to do this,_ she thought. He attempted to push her away, but he was losing too much energy,

"No, don't..."

"There's not another way!" She looked him in the eye, "You must. I don't have another way. But, I won't lose you to this. Come on, give me your hand."

"No..."

"Severus!" She shouted, pressing her palms into his hands, "Say the words. _Dò la mia anima voi. Dò la mia anima voi._ Say it."

He was shaking his head, but his eyes never left hers.

"I'm not going to lose you. I can't. I won't. _Say it_."

Then in a soft breath of air, he whispered,

" _Dò...la mia...anima...voi."_

A flash of white hot energy shot between their open palms. Hermione tried to pull away, but she was frozen in place. The glow finally subsided after a few moments and she reached for the blade. She cut the rune into his chest, placed the blade in his limp hand and told him,

"Alright, it calls for the Tiwaz rune. Can you do it?" The blade fell from his grip, but she repositioned it and unzipped her jumper.

Her sternum was bare beneath the warmth of the jacket. With the last of his strength, Snape began to carve the rune into her skin. The burn of the blade shocked Hermione and she stifled a cry. Luckily the rune was simplistic, and when it was complete, he dropped the blade on the floor. She pushed it away, her skin tingling in an odd way, making her nauseous and dizzy. But, it was complete.

The dark stain of the curse was almost at his neck. She reached out to him, her hand helplessly swiping at the purple bruise, and to her amazement, it began to recede at an alarming pace. Then, while she was witnessing her success, she began to feel the pain creep into her ankles and shin bones.

"Oh, shit," she looked down at her legs.

They were only slightly discolored compared to what his looked like, but the pain that she was experiencing was immense. Her head swam with the agony of the curse. It felt as if tiny daggers were carving their way through her bones. As the stain reached her femur, she vomited and began gasping for air, her heart racing uncontrollably in her chest.

Severus lifted himself up, slowly recovering from his ordeal.

"Hermione," he put his arms around her back, his hand pillowing her head from the hard wood floor, " _Breathe_ , Hermione."

She opened her mouth, but she couldn't get any air to flow. Finally, pushing from the core of her body, she could feel her throat tense up as she let out a scream. Even though she knew there were tears running down her face in cold wet streaks, she didn't feel like she was inside of herself. She was detached, as if her burning bones and brain were in two separate places.

Then, it began to subside. She was sweating, covered in sick, but she could feel her heart begin to slow. The pain only came in slow, nauseating waves, and she began to come around. Severus held a cold compress to her head and neck, his fingers looped through hers for her to squeeze during moments of that intense burning sensation.

"Are you alright?" She croaked, her voice gravely from her screams.

"Yes, I feel completely normal, actually. I remember the pain, but the fatigue isn't there. Come on, let's clean you off."

He ran cool water in the bath and wet a towel under its faucet for her face and neck. She rinsed out her hair, tying it up on her head to dry. He cast a series of cleaning charms while she rinsed out her mouth. Then, as she glanced at the mirror, she could see the blood stain across her chest from the carved rune. She wiped it off gently, careful not to rub the wound too hard. Wetting a light cloth, she went over to Severus, his dress robes mangled beyond recognition, and began to clean his chest.

"How are you feeling?" He asked her.

"I'm a little shaky. Just out of sorts, I guess. What curse was that? What happened to you?"

She sat next to him on the edge of the bed, the bloody rag in her hands. She found a clean corner and tried to clean her fingertips.

"When I arrived at the manor, Draco's celebration had already been going on for a few hours. Lucius was in...a _mood_. He made a toast to the Dark Lord, we ate, and Draco drank himself to the point of embarrassment, much to Lucius's dismay. I pulled Lucius aside and we met with the Dark Lord in the study with Belatrix. The Dark Lord actually welcomed the news about Potter's plan, and I thought I would make it back to the castle in tact, but Belatrix and Lucius blamed the Weasley's revolt on me. They said I should destroy the Order headquarters, but when I asked them how exactly I was supposed to do that without ruining my years of cover, in his drunken stupor, Lucius cursed me. I have no idea what it was. It was almost like the Cruciatus, but more acute. Probably one of his latest _inventions_. The last thing I remember before apparating was Lucius's brutal punishment by the Dark Lord. But, it was too late. The damage was done, and the only reason I made it through is because of you. I can't believe you did that. I can't believe I let you."

"I'm so sorry I couldn't heal you with a normal charm. I panicked. I had no clue what I was doing and I have no idea what's supposed to happen next," she said.

"Hermione," he pulled the rag away from her and squared her shoulders with his, catching her gaze, "You've saved my life with your own. I am forever in your debt. I have no idea what happens next either, but it will be fine. I will make it so."

"We have to tell Albus."

"I know," Snape let out a long sigh.

"I guess I'd better get some rest," Hermione stood up and straightened her clothes. She realized that she was barefoot in nothing but shorts and a zip up jacket. Her sternum was bare, and sore. She quickly zipped up her hoodie and searched for her wand.

"If you'll join me for breakfast, we can go to his office tomorrow and explain our... _situation_ ," Severus rose from the bed and pulled off what was left of his robes, searching his wardrobe for a shirt.

"Sure. Of course."

He stretched a sweater over his head and followed her into the living room.

"Hermione," Snape's face was filled with a pure look of sincerity, so different from his usual sardonic glare, "there may still be a way out of this. If anyone knows old magic, it's Albus."

Without warning, he pulled her into his chest. She fell into the embrace, too tired to hug him back, and curled against him. His breath was warm against her ear as he told her,

"I promise I'll fix this. All of it."

"I know you can."

She left his quarters and returned to hers. Her fire was finally dead, and only Ashes continued to glow in the hearth. Hermione stripped off her clothes, bandaged her chest, and crawled mercifully into bed. She laid there, comfortable at last, but something at the back of her mind was pushing her thoughts back to Severus. She felt more alone than usual, as if the curse had begun to take hold. Hermione could _feel_ him, and she knew he was there just across the hall, but she felt something pulling her towards him. She drifted off to sleep hoping that tomorrow would be better. She hung on to the hope of what he said. _There may still be a way out of this_. She prayed that he was right.


	10. Changed in the Night

Chapter Ten: _Changed in the Night_

"No, Severus. I'm afraid it's quite permanent," Albus looked more than a little upset, "Madam Granger, you have put both yourself and Professor Snape in a considerable amount of danger by performing this hex. How did you find this magic?"

"In the library, actually," she said quietly. She stared at Severus, sorry that she had put them in this predicament. If Dumbledore was worried, she knew it must be serious.

"Well," the headmaster continued, "I'm afraid that Corvin's spell has no counter curse, nor will it ever. His magic is ancient, and as with other blood bound spells, it is everlasting. Nicolas spoke of the curse to me once. His connection to Corvin was...complex."

"So, what happened to Lomiarti?" Hermione asked.

"I haven't the slightest idea what befell Corvin. Nicolas found his body in his home, but there were no signs of trauma, magical or otherwise. You see, Nicolas and Corvin Lomiarti did everything together. In Nicolas's days at school, Corvin worked on research with him which eventually led to the creation of the Sorcerer's Stone. According to Nicolas, it was Corvin's work with blood magic that made the stone powerful enough to grant everlasting life. The blood runes involved in the Animus hex are cut from a similar cloth. Now, the fact that you pursued this magic knowing about its _peculiar_ side effects is none of my business -"

"I can assure you that had this been a normal situation, we would not have chosen this path," Severus's tone was flustered. Hermione knew he was right, this had been an emergency, a last resort. But, his intense renouncement of their connection made her feel self-conscious. _He's stuck with the 'insufferable know-it-all' now, and he regrets it._ She tried to push the thoughts out of her head. She needed to be logical if they were going to survive this.

"Nevertheless, Albus continued "you two will need to work things out soon. The effects of the curse will begin to take hold, and to ignore it would unfortunately lead to your eminent deaths. Nicolas lived his whole life in agony without Corvin, and without the potion of immortality, I am certain that he would have followed his friend to an early grave. He spoke to me about his loneliness often, how he would rather have died with Corvin than live another day," there was a long pause, "I cannot lose either of you. Not now, not while we are this close to stopping Tom's killing spree."

"I vowed to keep him alive," Hermione steeled herself, "and my promise still stands. You'll have your victory, Headmaster."

She fled from the office. Her emotions had invaded her thoughts in spite of her efforts to push them away. _All they care about is winning. It doesn't matter who gets thrown under the stampede as long as Lord Voldemort ends up dead. Harry has turned to murder, the twins are making bombs, and all Albus wants is his justice. Severus shows up half-dead every night, but where are any of them then?_

Instead of the dungeon, she headed straight for Gryffindor tower. She climbed the cold steps to the dormitories, her feet finally treading on the plush red and gold carpet of the empty common room. All the students had been in class for a while, it was almost noon, so Hermione skipped the bedrooms and went straight to the balcony. It was only a small overhang in between the two dorms, too cramped to gather with friends, but just the right size for a bit of fresh air.

The wind was crisp, in spite of summer's recent warmth only a month before. September was nothing but rain and turbulent temperatures. When the sun finally made an appearance, the heat returned, but Hermione could feel the greyness of winter approaching faster than usual. However, today was bright, overcast as usual, yet the dark green of the Forbidden Forest stretched out in front of her like a verdant quilt. The ancient trunks scraped a cloudy sky, soaking up the rays that managed to escape through holes in the firmament.

Viewing the macrocosm of landscape filled her up again. She put Dumbledore and the Order aside, and pushed her fears and stress from the forefront of her mind. Hermione could hear her father's voice in her head, " _Don't forget to use your pockets when your hands are full."_ So, she saved her emotions for later. A few deep breaths and she was able to turn back into the stony heart of the castle and join her friends for lunch.

Back in Dumbledore's office, Snape was seething. _Where had she just run off to?_ He rose to leave as well, but the headmaster's voice stopped him.

"Severus? What were you thinking? She's just a child," Albus' voice was acrid and biting.

"Well," Snape growled softly, refusing to face the old wizard, "I happened to be dying at the time, but perhaps you're right, Albus. Perhaps I should have turned her away and let her clean up a _body_ instead of a little blood."

Albus was silent, his visage smeared with unbridled rage that only Severus had the privilege of witnessing. With the students, the Order, and the other professors, Dumbledore was the picture of patience. But, in front of Severus, there was no reason to hide.

"I will not be responsible for her," the headmaster threw up his hands, "I have protected those three all these years, but she is your charge now. Her _death_ is on your conscience, not mine."

"Are not they all? This entire war has _always_ been on my shoulders. Your only credit is your _charming_ ability to keep a secret for ten years!" Snape was shouting, his anger palpable in the vaulted office.

"Your shoulders? What about Harry?"

"I've had just about enough of _goddamn Potter_."

"Yes, well," Albus opened the door for Snape to exit, "maybe your time with Madam Granger will remind you that you are not the only one making sacrifices."

The sound of the door slamming behind him was deafening, but Severus didn't care if he woke the entire castle. Before he reached the bottom step, his emotions were composed and contained, but Albus made him long for death like he thought the Dark Lord only could.

Later that day, Hermione took Ashes with her to the potions lab to make a few batches of medications for the hospital wing. Ashes was enjoying the high ceilings, lighting on this cupboard or that, and squawking at Hermione.

"If you're going to cause a raucous, you might as well help," she called to her owl jokingly.

Ashes flitted to her shoulder, his soft feathers tickling her earlobe. She placed him in an empty, shallow cauldron and continued her work. But the owl kept hopping in front of her, his claws digging into her ingredients.

"Ashes!" She laughed, "Oh, alright. You want to send a letter for me? That might keep you busy, you rascal."

She jotted down a quick note to her parents, carefully omitting almost everything that had happened to her over the last two months. Hermione tried to focus on the future, her eventual promotion, and her continued research. Her parents would like to hear those things about her life, but she wasn't sure if they would understand that melding her soul with her Death Eater potions master was good for the cause.

"There," she tied the note to Ashes' foot and carried him to the window, "Straight to mum's, if you please, and try not to scorch the postage."

She watched as he flew into the sky. He would reach them by morning, so at least she could work in peace for a while. Without her feathered distraction, Hermione completed large batches of blood-replenishing potion, bruise and burn healing pastes, as well as Pepperup potion. It was almost nightfall by the time she finished cleaning the lab, and Hermione was thankful to be on her way to her rooms, more than ready to snuggle up with a cup of tea and her advanced potions book. She wanted to brew a pot of Wolfsbane for Remus, but having never practiced before, she needed to read up on it fully.

The rest of her evening was blissfully uneventful, the anxiety in the headmaster's office this morning no more than a mere memory. She left a bowl of food out for Ashes and headed to bed. However, her sleep was racked with dreams. She woke up every few hours, unable to sink into an oblivious darkness. She kept running towards or away from people in her life. She chased Harry into the Chamber of Secrets, she ran from Lucius and Voldemort, and followed Snape into the Room of Requirement, only to find the Death Eaters waiting for her when she entered.

Hermione didn't feel like these dreams were as meaningful as the dream about her capture, which still haunted her sleep occasionally, but she could tell that her mind was being mauled by the stress of the Animus charm. The scar on her chest had healed at an alarming rate, but it burned. It wasn't noticeable until she was still for a while, but the heat from the cut was nearly always there, a constant reminder in the back of her mind.

Morning finally broke through her window, pale beams creating shafts of sunlight that flooded her bedroom. She showered, pulled on her robes, and started to leave when she heard a tapping on her window.

"Ashes?" She turned to look for her owl, but he was sound asleep in his bowl, a reply from her parents Scotch-taped to his leg. Inwardly, she giggled at her mother's attention to detail, and went to open the window for the other bird. She didn't recognize the barn owl, but when she read the letter, she immediately knew who it was from.

 _Hermione,_

 _Please join me for dinner and lessons in the lab this evening. Eight o'clock._

 _S. S._

She gave a treat to the barn owl and watched Snape's note burn on the floor. Perhaps she would have a normal apprenticeship after all, she thought. But, somewhere in her heart, she seriously doubted it.

She pulled the note from Ashes and read her mother's loopy writing. They wished her well, told her all about how much Crookshanks missed her, and by the time she read to the end of the letter, Hermione could feel her throat clench with the grief of missing them. But, who had time for grief anymore?

At lunch, while Hermione was face first in a grilled cheese sandwich, Ginny came around behind the faculty table.

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny kneeled next to her.

"What are you up to, Gin?"

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me to Hogsmead this weekend," Ginny asked.

"Saturday?"

"Yeah," she paused, "It's just that the Fall Ball is only a few weeks away, and I have absolutely nothing to wear."

"Fall Ball?" Hermione could only remember Hogwarts hosting a Winter dance and an end of the year celebration of some sort, not a Fall Ball.

Ginny sighed,

"Parvati and Lavender are our student organizers this year. All of their themes are powered by their new favorite saying: ' _Glamorous Gryffindors.'_ To make matters worse, the other houses are just as bonkers about it. So, we've been going to all kinds of events. We've had two dorm game nights already. It's sort of exhausting."

"I bet," Hermione tried to empathize. She had been so busy with studying, as well as trying to dodge Voldemort during her years at Hogwarts that she had barely made it to the Yule Ball, much less other smaller celebrations. She relented,

"Sure I'll go with you. You're going to need someone to hold your bags."

Ginny laughed and gave her a big hug,

"Thanks! I'll see you later!"

Next to her, Snape quietly chewed a lamb loin chop and drank his fourth tea. His mouth had been constantly full since Hermione sat down beside him.

"Someone's hungry," she said.

He grunted in reply.

"Are we still meeting tonight?" She asked, trying to pry some words out of his ravenous jaws.

Another grunt.

 _Fine._ She picked up her book and began to make more notes about the Wolfsbane potion.

She could feel him reading over her shoulder, and he finally spoke,

"The harvest is almost here for the Monk's Hood."

"Not until next month. Do we have enough left for this season?"

"Plenty really, but I harvest every October."

"The Harvest Moon is on the...um," Hermione looked through her notes, "It's the twenty-fourth this year. Good, a Sunday. Maybe we can actually pick them at a decent hour."

"Snakeweed will be ready as well, but Sprout has that in her greenhouse," he said as he took another big gulp of tea, "and we'll have to be careful not to mix it with the aconite."

"Madame Pomfrey doesn't harvest the snakeweed herself? I thought everything was in the greenhouse." Hermione asked, thinking that it was strange that Snape would gather anti-nausea ingredients.

"Poppy couldn't pick a tulip without mutilating it," Hermione thought she heard the ghost of a chuckle, "The aconite pollen would kill the more sensitive plants. So, I maintain a garden in the forest."

"The Forbidden Forest?" Heading in there on a full moon in October was not one of Hermione's ideas for a good time.

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying his best to hold in a scathing remark,

" _Yes_. By the way, if I have to go to that bloody ball, so do you."

"What? Oh, Ginny was just asking me to shop, not to attend. I won't be attending," Hermione had no intentions of wasting precious time that could be better spent over a cauldron.

"No. You are a faculty member, and you are... _ipso facto_...a chaperone," she could see the corners of his mouth twitch into the slightest grin.

Hermione sat back in her chair, frustrated that she would have to free up a weekend just to _chaperone_ a bunch of students. Her whole schedule would have to be rearranged! She pulled out her planner, flipping the pages in apparent hurry.

Severus rose in his seat, a giant lox and cream cheese bagel in one hand with a tea in the other,

"Oh, and do dress up. Albus will simply not stand for normal robes. Trust me, I found out the hard way."

He raised his eyebrows at her, shoving the bagel into his mouth, and disappearing from the table. She watched him leave, suddenly unable to look away. Hermione studied his mouth as he ate, the two thick lips opening wide to accommodate his food, a stray dab of cream cheese at one corner on his cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, slowly, deliberately, and then quickly polished it off with a sweep off his peach tongue. She felt a surge of... _something_ crash into her chest as she gazed upon his face, and at that same moment, he spun to look at her, just before he disappeared into the corridor. Their eyes met for half of a second, and Hermione thought he looked...surprised? Had he felt it too? _He's just eating, and I'm ridiculous._ She turned back to her planner before she could be any more embarrassed.

All through lunch, Severus felt her eyes on him. He was not ready to speak about what had transpired between them. He wasn't sure if he was ready to talk to her at all. He had promised himself that they would face it tonight, as professionals, over dinner. But, he could smell her. The scent of caramel and butter ruthlessly filled his nose. She was sitting close enough to him at the cramped faculty table to radiate a soft warmth that plagued his right thigh. Then, all he could think of was _her_ thigh, and that just wouldn't do. She was half his age with her whole life ahead of her, and he was a scarred, broken, Death Eater spy. It wouldn't do to even _consider_ her thighs...but, then he saw her watching him try to escape the dining hall. The blood rose in his arms and chest like a tiny heart attack. In a matter of mere milliseconds, Severus looked upon her face.

Her pouty mouth hung open in shock, and he could see the gleam of straight white teeth, visible just below her pointed Cupid's Bow. His eyes traced her proud jawline to a smooth, olive-skinned neck, and down into a buttoned, grey blouse tucked beneath her open robes. Now that he was back in his classroom, he tried to force himself to focus on something other than her buttery smell, but it lingered through the afternoon until his frustration at his pitiful lack of self-control inspired the wrathful dismissal of an entire room of second years.

Hermione was getting ready to meet with Snape, flustered from her reactions earlier, and she tried to focus on her notes. She had questions about the stasis healing potions she was working on, as well as the Wolfsbane. Maybe they could brew a pot, just so she would have something to compare it to.

She looked at her watch and saw that it was already seven-thirty.

 _Shit. I haven't even showered._

Hermione hated to do it, but she charmed her hair into more manageable curls, cleaner at least, and she put on some makeup. The shower would have to wait. _Besides_ , she thought, _I'll be up to my elbows in potion water by the time I get back._

"There," she looked at herself in the mirror, "What do you think, Ashes? Decent enough."

She hurried out the door, dragonhide boots laced up to her knee, and went down the hall to the lab. Her boot heels thudded against the cold slab, and as she came upon the lab door, she saw that Severus was already brewing something. He was just getting started, adding the liquid ingredients, and raising the temperature with his brewing wand.

"Hey," she pushed the door open wide.

He looked up at her,

"Come in. I was just bringing my Wolfsbane up to boil. Get your cauldron from the closet."

She pulled down her cauldron from the wooden cupboard and found her wand in her robes.

"What am I brewing?" She called to him from the ingredients cabinet.

" _We_ are brewing two batches of Wolfsbane. Mine and yours, so that when we are finished, you can figure out what you did wrong."

 _Guess he had a bad day._ Hermione vowed to keep her distance, but she was nervous. She wanted to get this potion right the first time. She needed to make a large amount of it as soon as possible. If she could combine the Wolfsbane with the stasis potions she was researching, maybe she could make one batch of potion last an entire year. She knew it wasn't a cure, but she imagined how werewolves would only have to take one potion a year in order to stave off the lunar change.

Hermione combined her liquids and started adjusting her heat. After a few moments of waiting, she was happy to see that her color and viscosity matched Snape's potion as well.

She continued to prepare the solid ingredients, checking her notes every few seconds, double-weighing her products, and making sure she had enough aconite fluid.

"Don't bruise that Monk's Hood juice," Snape pointed to her vigorous motions with her mortar and pestle.

"What?" She hadn't read anything about bruises.

"If you're going to beat it like an egg, you'll poison your poor wolf in an instant," he sighed and plucked a few more violet, aconite petals from the sample. In a new pestle, he crushed the plant gently, pulling and pushing at the flower, "See? If you aerate the fluids, you're introducing too much oxygen to the potion. If you add froth to Monk's Hood, you get -"

"Poison. Oh, damnit. How could I forget?" She threw out the mutilated petals and began again. Just as she was about to add it to the cauldron, Snape stopped her,

"Did you add the Bloodroot yet?"

She paused with her aconite fluid midair,

"No. It doesn't give a specific order for solid additions after heating. Bloodroot pulp is a solid."

"It may be a solid for us, but when this potion was written, the pulp was considered a liquid. A thick one, but a liquid nonetheless. So, you're going to have to add it before the Monk's Hood juice."

" _Shit_ , but this is almost at a boil. I can't add it after it reaches a boil."

She didn't get a reply. Snape stirred his pot and simply shrugged at her, a sly smirk on his face. Hermione cut her temperature and started swiftly slicing at the root, hoping that she could save the added it, finally, ignoring the tiny bubbles that breached the surface. Turning the heat up once more, she threw in the aconite and began to focus on the dry herbs.

By the time she had finished adding everything to her pot, she let it simmer and slunk down in her seat, her brow sweaty and her fingers sticky from handling all the sappy plants. She cleaned up, wiped down her station, and watched Severus as he worked. He was controlling two cauldrons, his multiple brewing wands working together like a machine. His deft hands drew out the necessary runes and his two potions slowed to a smooth boil. It was as if the entire table bent to his will. Did he want it thicker? It was instantly viscous. Was it hot enough? He could start and stop a boil in a matter of moments. Frustrated with her mistakes, Hermione hoped that skills like his could be learned, but she had a sinking feeling that he didn't make it on eighty-seven covers of _Potion's Weekly_ by simple practice. Brewing was in his body, his skin and bones could sense the reactions and his brain weighed the calculations in his head. But, his timing - that was the real gift.

When he had completed both mixtures, he called for dinner and carried it away from the delicate cauldron contents. Hermione followed him, starving and exhausted. She pulled apart a honeyed crescent roll and dipped it in the gravy that covered a smoked turkey breast. They ate in silence, the earthy scent of their bubbling potions filled the room, and Hermione leaned back in her chair, clutching a never-ending goblet of cranberry juice like a shield. She knew it was coming. She could feel it. Snape wanted to talk about the Animus charm, and the...consequences. Hermione had to be honest, it needed to be sorted out, but she wasn't prepared to tell him that she had _felt_ something for him over the past few days. If she was being completely honest, her feelings had began to stir before the curse, but she pushed that down into the back of her mind, fiercely burying it. This man had saved her life more times than she probably knew about, he had protected her, and he saw her for what she was - intelligent, cunning, and willing to sacrifice everything for the ones she cared about. Maybe Sirius was right, maybe they did have more in common than she had previously imagined. Lost in her thoughts, his voice startled her.

"I believe you and I need to... _discuss_ what is about to happen," he vanished the plates, but mercifully left the cups, eyeing Hermione's death grip on her juice.

"Yes. Right," Hermione smoothed out her sweater sleeve and pulled out the notes she had gathered from all of her different sources on the hex, "I haven't found anything explicitly written about the...um...effects, but according to Albus, we are soon to be experiencing some emotional... _connectivity_."

"And Lupin was enough of a gentleman to brashly inform you that there will also be a..." he paused, and Hermione could see his pale cheeks rush with a hint of pink, " _physical_ effect as well."

"Well, I think he meant that physical contact would help our...uh, souls?" She raised an eyebrow at him and he nodded, "help our souls to be reconnected as one whole piece, as opposed to whatever they look like now."

Before now, Hermione hadn't put much stock into souls, or love, or anything that wasn't relevant to her tasks at hand. But, whatever had happened, _soul_ was the best way to describe it, valid or not.

They sat at the table for some time, stranded in the middle of an awkward silence, until Snape pushed back from the table and threw up his hands,

"Look, you're just a child. I can't _physically_ or emotionally be involved with you. I could be your goddamn father, for crying out loud," he leaned into her, looking her in the eyes, "You have got an entire lifetime ahead of you, and I will probably be dead before Christmas. There is nothing that I could possibly give you that would make your life better."

Hermione was taken aback, and she was ashamed for thinking that he had feelings for her as well. She fumed,

"So, I'm just that repulsive, yes? A childish know-it-all that isn't fit to even be considered an equal?"

"Don't turn this conversation into a game just to _feed your ego_ , girl," he snarled.

"My _ego_?" She was shouting at this point, "You have been nothing but abrasive through this entire ordeal. One minute I'm saving your bloody life, and the next you're throwing me out into the hallway, or _attacking_ me in your quarters. I gave up a part of my _fucking soul_ just so that you could survive, and how do you repay me? By inviting me here to tell me how unworthy I am of your time. And to think that I thought I could have _feelings_ for you! Well, I congratulate you on thoroughly proving to me and _everyone else_ that you don't have any feelings at all."

Any other day, she would have been in tears, but her eyes were clear and focused right on his face. She wanted him to throw her out, or prove her right, or anything. But, he just sat there, staring at the table. She put her head in her hands, reveling in the darkness, thankful she didn't have to watch for the slightest hint of an emotion on his face that she knew just wouldn't be there.

A slow, deep reply pulled her eyes back up to his,

"You have _feelings_ for me?"

"Had," she snapped.

"Why?"

She mocked him, faking the tone of his voice,

"Don't turn this conversation into a game just to feed your ego."

He looked away again, this time visibly hurt. His eyes narrowed as he stared into his cup.

She sighed, not knowing why she was telling him, but she felt like if she had already admitted to it this far, she might as well go all the way,

"Look, I admire you as a person. Your accomplishments alone should be enough to validate your existence. But, you _saved_ me from Voldemort, I'm sure plenty of times, and sometimes from myself in your class, and it made me a better person. I thought that you would be able to find it in yourself somewhere to actually care about me as a colleague, at least. But, if you just want to ignore each other, maybe this hex will just...go away? I don't know. We can try that first if you like."

"Alright," he nodded, "we can try that then."

She got up from the table and started to bottle her potion, which was barely passable, much to her dismay. It was Wolfsbane, but she knew it didn't have the integrity to stop the change in an older wolf like Remus. She stopped bottling and threw her wand down,

"Sod it. Why can't I get anything to come together?" She stared at the potion in silence for a while.

"I had no idea," Snape said, still sitting at the table.

"No idea about what?" Hermione was exhausted and angry. She certainly wasn't in the mood for his intense reservation.

"That you felt that way."

"Yeah, well..." she didn't have any words left. _What does he want me to say?_

"Hermione," he stood and joined her at her lab desk, "I do not find you repulsive. That's ridiculous. I just don't want you to regret your decision. Who knows what will happen to us?"

"Then help me, Severus. If you just shut off and leave me out here to deal with this, then we're both lost."

"This is _difficult_ for me."

"It's not easy for me either."

Then, to his surprise, she reached out a hand to him. She felt as if she were being pulled toward him, and as she entwined her fingers with his, she noticed that he relaxed. A normally stiff and stoic Snape loosened his joints, allowing her to feel his calloused palm, touch the bones in the back of his hand, rub a thumb over his tattooed wrist.

The lab was silent. The lack of noises made Hermione aware that she was holding her breath. She exhaled with care, the air wavered in spite of her stealth, shaking from her nerves. Snape's warmth was coating her bare skin on her collarbone where he had laid his left palm. He searched her face, like he had in the alley, and in the library, and in his quarters. Hermione could smell his skin, that earthy scent like just before a rain in the autumn, a mix of damp soil and a brisk wind. He ran a hand under her jaw, slowly, testing her reaction just as he would a new potion, waiting for it to combust. Then his fingers grazed her cheekbone, a soft spot just under her mouth, her bottom lip.

He bent down to her, the caution gone from his movements, and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were soft and hot. His nose brushed her cheek. Hermione felt his jaw tighten as he pushed against her body, her back pinned to the closed door. She could taste his smooth tongue as he softly invaded her palate, a stark contrast to his fierce grip on the nape of her neck. Opening her eyes for a moment, overcome with shock, Hermione could see only blackness. Snape's thick hair and heavy cloak encapsulated her body, concealing her in a dark shroud. Were it not for the inches of alabaster skin just below his earlobes, she could not tell the difference between the darkness of the room and the darkness of the man.

As she moved against him, involuntarily at times, Hermione could feel her thoughts melt into a dull blur. She wasn't afraid, nor anxious. She felt free, safe, and connected. Entwining her fingers in his scalp, Hermione heard him elicit a quiet groan. Then, just as she thought she had imagined his utterance, he freed himself from her kiss and lunged at her neck, a slow snarl echoing deep inside his chest. She tried to squirm free, the electric fury of his lips on her skin sent shivers into her shoulders, but he pushed her back. Then, she knew the catalyst for the growls. To her shock, his shaft was rigidly crushed against the wool of his pants, its hardness unmistakable on her stomach.

At this brief contact, Severus pulled away from her, his face marred with shame and apology. As soon as he dropped his hands to his sides, she was hit with a wave of familiar loneliness. She could see it in his eyes as well. He said nothing, waiting for her to leave or to slap him, anything in response to his assault. But, all she gave him was a sigh. Was that relief? Surprise?

"Severus," she said, testing his response, trying out her voice in the quiet when just moments before her ears had not bothered with the absent sound. But, then she saw it, just over his right shoulder. _Oh, no..._

"Yes, Hermione," his voice was ragged, a tiny window into the gravely intensity of his recent pleasure.

"Your cauldron's on fire," her voice was barely above a whisper.

"What?" He turned to face a towering blaze at his table, fumbling for his wand to extinguish it.

Hermione moved her pot away from the flames, watching as he quenched the inferno, ruining his entire stock of ingredients. The floor was covered in wasted potion, the tables were charred, and Snape's cloak was soaked in Wolfsbane liquid.

"Shit," he cursed, sinking into an ashy chair.

She waited. Her sides ached, but she was too afraid of his wrath to let out even the smallest giggle. He stared at the wreckage, stunned from the sudden explosion. When she couldn't hold back any longer, she erupted into laughter. He looked like a wet cat, panting from their previous encounter, soaking from his accident, his hands covered in burnt bits of aconite. He turned to her, and to her relief, his face lit up at the sound of her snickering. He shook his head with a curl of a smile,

"You're laughing at me?"

"No," she choked back her amusement, fighting a smile, "Not at you. Certainly not."

"What are we going to do?"

"It'll be fine. Everyone will just think you torched a first year, or something."

"No," he chuckled, "I meant...what are _we_ going to do?"

"Oh," she acknowledged her mistake, realizing that Snape's bonfire had interrupted their recent closeness, "I don't really know."

"Are you alright? I'm sorry if I have... _offended_ you. I know we agreed to be, uh, _professional_ ," she watched him speak as he stared at the floor, his hand brushing off the soot, struggling to look conciliatory.

"Look," she saw his eyes raise to meet hers across the lab, "you'll know when you offend me, alright? I guess I just need time to think."

"Could you feel the change?" His eyes were back to the floor, fixated on the black stain underneath the trashed table.

"Yes, and I think that's only going to get worse. So, if we stay apart, I guess it will just build like that until...well, until whatever happens."

"Then what exactly do you propose we do in the meantime?"

"Well, I still need to learn this bloody potion," Hermione peeked into her cauldron, "Mine is next to worthless and yours is...uh..."

He shot her an empty glare,

"Tomorrow, then?"

She nodded,

"Do you need help cleaning up?"

"No, I'll finish up in here. Go get some rest."

Hermione nodded at him, and he smiled, watching her leave. Without warning, Lupin's voice rattled in his head, " _Afraid you'll actually enjoy living life for a change?"_ Maybe Remus was right. When they had spoken on the train, Lupin had said that she was different. But, Severus had not wanted to acknowledge it then. But now, even when she was gone, he could still smell her hair. It was like oranges soaked in vanilla icing, and it was painful to see her go. _What am I going to do?_ He still felt responsible for what happened. He was her professor no longer, but the title was still a fresh memory. Nevertheless, she hadn't rejected him. He was still in one piece. Even he had to admit that Hermione Granger had indeed changed. Maybe the young girl he was connected to had become a woman while he wasn't looking. She was a taste that lingered in his mouth like a spice and on his skin like a bruise. If his life was fated to be entwined with hers, Severus began to realize that he might be dangerously close to _actually enjoying_ it.


	11. Jaws that Bait

Lemon alert.

Chapter Eleven: _Jaws That Bait_

An hour before dawn, Hermione lay awake in her bedroom, her mind racing with images from the night before. Thoughts flooded her brain as she fought to get a steady night of sleep. _He just kissed me. Professor Snape, the Death Eater, kissed me in the bloody lab._ She knew she would feel emotional because of the spell, but she didn't even imagine the loneliness that would creep in on her when she was away from him. After their intimacy, Hermione had felt like she would burn from the inside out if he didn't hold her again. She had to stop herself from reaching out to him, and actually leaving the potions lab was a feat of strength.

But why did she feel like she was missing something? When she first saw him this summer in the alley, he had shielded her from Lucius and the look on his face confused her. She had just witnessed that gaze again, just as she had in the library, and when he carried her to her room. _Has he had feelings for me, even before the curse?_ It scratched at the back of her mind, even though it was hard for her to admit or even begin to understand.

In class, she had only wanted to succeed. She made the grades, but only after a hard fight. Other professors would be impressed with her most basic successes, but the only thing that pleased Severus Snape was unblemished perfection. Yet, her papers bled nonetheless. She had read Lavender's essays, and they were barely legible, but she still passed with decent marks. Hermione knew her own papers deserved better grades, but what could she say? So, she kept at it. Then, when the OWLS came around, she was the only one with an Outstanding in potions, the only one who was able to best the hardest exam in wizarding education. Then, she took the N.E.W.T.s and passed with flying colors. That day, her opinion of Snape had changed. He forced her to push herself, and she started to look into his research in depth. She started to admire the man who she had loathed for so many years.

But, she had never thought she would be experiencing these feelings for him. He was no Prince Charming, and he had always been a thorn in her academic side. Now that they were colleagues, Hermione had begun to see him as her equal - even if he was arguably the one of the world's most powerful wizards alive. She was certainly not his match in power, but perhaps in wits she could hope to meet him someday. Then there was the question of his allegiance. Did the Death Eater snake and skull inked in his skin run deeper than she thought? She refused to believe that a man who put so much care and concern into her life alone would throw away all of his values in order to appease the Dark Lord. He was a murderer, she knew, and a part of her didn't want to acknowledge that part of his life. If anything, knowing that he slept by her side when she was barely wounded, she had a sinking feeling that he would have rather died than hurt those innocent people, and now he had to live with his past deeds.

So, what to do? She had told him she needed to think, but she hadn't achieved anything except dragging herself around in a cyclical argument. She wanted to be with him, even if he was her thirty-nine year old, murderous, unapproachable, former professor. Even if she didn't appreciate him as a human being, if she couldn't live with his marred past, she still needed him in order to see the end of Lord Voldemort. Thus, the endless circle of explanation and excuse plagued her thoughts until she saw pale pink sunlight slowly creep over the horizon.

Hermione yawned, pulled on her hoodie and tied her curls to the side. Ashes was chewing on a dried pineapple slice perched atop the mantle piece. She passed some time by cleaning up a bit, and as she started to run a bath, she caught a glimpse of her scar on the shallow bone of her chest. She traced it with one finger, feeling the pale ridges of flesh around the rune. One of the lines was jagged, from Snape's shaky hand in the midst of his excruciating curse. She rubbed it, as if it would straighten out beneath her thumb. Hermione looked at it and swore that before all this was over, Lucius would pay for the horror that he had unleashed upon Severus.

"Good morning," Snape's dark voice was muted by his copy of the daily prophet that flapped in front of his face as he flipped back to the front page. He folded the paper beside his plate and began to generously butter an English muffin.

"What's this?" Hermione picked up the discarded _Prophet_ , "It says here that an anonymous donation was made to the International Auror Office at the price of... _two hundred thousand galleons_? Who in the world has that much money?"

"More people than you think. A lot of pureblood families have extensive wealth, old wealth... _powerful_ wealth," Snape's tone was full of implications, "If you were building an army, and you knew that there was a convenient group of wizards who were heavily armed and ruthless in their methods, wouldn't you want those wizards fighting on your side?"

"You think someone is trying to pay off the Aurors? Who?"

"It can only be a few different families. The twins' revenue doesn't fit with sums like that, and the Weasleys would play the Potter sympathy card anyway," Snape spat, "But the Blacks? The Malfoys or the Crabbes? Who knows."

"But, the Aurors wouldn't turn on the Ministry," Hermione dismissed Snape's conspiracy theory.

"Not the whole group, no. But, one or two? Maybe. That's all anyone would need in order to train the rest of the army," Severus's brow furrowed and he sipped his tea.

"The order meeting is tomorrow night. Do you think we should bring this up?"

"We?" Snape let out a sarcastic scoff.

"Right, I guess I'll have to do it," Hermione had forgotten that even though Severus would be present, he'd be hidden in the shadows.

"Moody will not welcome your _speculation_."

"Well, I don't really care what Moody thinks. Aside from turning Malfoy into a ferret, which wasn't even the real Moody, I'm not sure he's done anything productive for the war at this point," Hermione had no time for politics. Harry needed to know that Voldemort was building his power with every available wizard, even Aurors. No one would like to admit to this atrocity, but they would have to.

Snape chuckled at her insult. His hatred for Alastor Moody was well-known. After his rescue from Barty Crouch Jr, Moody had tried to blame it on Snape somehow, refusing his health potions or remedies in spite of Albus's prodding. They could barely be in the same room together without Mad-Eye flinging some sort of curse.

Later that morning, Hermione spent some time with Poppy in the hospital wing, fixing Quidditch wounds mostly. The season had started up with a game between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, with the snakes coming out some hundred points ahead. The Ravenclaw players were considerably more injured than usual, and after Hermione mixed up her fourth batch of Skele-grow, she cleaned up and spent some time going over the medical records. After Poppy was gone, everything would be up to Hermione to organize, and familiarizing herself with the students' records was intensive work.

"Are you sure you won't change your mind and stay for the year?" Hermione said jokingly as she moved around huge stacks of forms.

Poppy smiled,

"Even if You-Know-Who wasn't around, you couldn't pay me to stay here. I love these kids so much, but after so many years of going through these piles of paperwork, I'll be glad to never fill out an admittance form ever again. It's all yours, my dear."

Hermione sighed. She said her goodbyes to Poppy later that afternoon, her brain thinking about wards and filing systems. At her parents' dentist office, their patients had identification numbers and everything was logged into the computer system. Hermione missed the convenience of the Muggle world, but she was excited about having the hospital wing completely under her control.

She knew she was supposed to meet Severus in the lab later that evening, but she wanted to get a head start on her stasis potions. She needed to perfect her Wolfsbane as soon as possible. The effect that it would have on the lives of werewolves was too great to pass up. It was an incredible theory, and if it worked, she could only imagine how much this would contribute to a possible cure.

But, when she headed down the hall to the labs in the dungeon, she was greeted by a nightmarish sight. Severus was in the corridor with LaBeaux and the Malfoys. Draco and Lucius wore matching grins on their faces, and she could feel their eyes on her as she descended the cold stone steps. There was no turning back now. She put on her bravest face and continued her trek into the dungeon. They were still almost twenty meters away from her, and if she could just get by them, she could duck into her rooms without incident.

As soon as he saw her, Severus could feel his heart pound hard in his chest. Only moments before, he had been listening to Lucius's latest tale of how he abducted a Muggle girl from her home in the middle of the night, against the Dark Lord's wishes. Malfoy's sexual appetite was more violent than any act of sadism performed by other Death Eaters. It was barbaric. Narcissa was the least of Lucius's concerns. She was a trophy, not a toy. He preferred to hunt on his own, away from the ritualistic sacrifices that the Dark Lord employed for powerful potions at the revels. Snape knew Hermione was a prize stag to the other men around him. Having Harry Potter's best friend as a notch in their bedposts would be a badge even Lucius would admire. But, Severus did not share. He felt irrational jealousy flood his senses as she approached. _Does she have to sway her hips like that? Merlin._

"Hermione," LaBeaux oozed, "It must be my lucky day."

Severus hated the way he said her name. _Her-mah-nee_. His accent was ridiculous.

"Professor LaBeaux," Hermione's tone sliced through the space between them like a razor blade, "I believe the last time I saw you, your _paw_ connected with my face. Not very _lucky_ for me, I suppose."

"Oh, darlin'. I am so sorry for that. I hope you can accept my most humble apologies. But, when I saw you with that cur, I'm afraid I just couldn't help myself," the smile never left his face, but his eyes burned with malice.

She didn't respond to him. Snape watched as Hermione simply pulled out her notebook and headed for the lab.

Draco grabbed her arm, knocking the book from her hands,

"Where do you think you're going, bitch?"

"Now, now, Draco," Lucius bent to retrieve the book and handed it back to Hermione, "Where did you leave your tact? We are in the presence of what Severus assures us is...a _lady_."

She shot a cold glare at Snape. _Why did he even mention my name in the presence of these monsters?_ She pulled the notebook away from Lucius's grasp and tried to straighten her notes.

"Granger," Snape barked, "Don't you have _work_ to do? Or, are you just in the habit of _wasting our time?"_

Her heart sank. She expected the biting remarks from the Malfoys and LaBeaux, but not from him. _He had better have a good excuse, or tonight will not be pleasant._

She shouldered Draco out of the way and shut the door to the lab. Fuming, she pulled her cauldron out of the closet and tried to get her mind off of her encounter. About an hour later, she was interrupted by Snape barging into the lab like an angry bull.

"Oh, Severus," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Do come in."

"It's a miracle you're in one piece," he growled, "I'll have to live with the _images_ they had in their heads for the rest of my life."

"Well, maybe you should have kept your mouth shut before you mentioned me to Lucius bloody Malfoy," Hermione stirred her potion a bit too vigorously, "Didn't he try to kill you last weekend?"

"He came by to _apologize_ in person, his pitiful son in tow. When he heard about our work on potions from LaBeaux, he became a little too interested in your role here at the castle. Apparently, the Dark Lord has asked that I use you to get more information on Potter. And after your _appearance_ today, Lucius was suddenly more than helpful in deciding just how that should be accomplished."

"I could get used to a world without Lucius Malfoy," she sighed.

"Well, that might be sooner rather than later if Potter has anything to say about it."

"Yeah, don't remind me," Hermione tried to hold onto her anger, but now that he was here, it just didn't seem as important anymore. She watched him pull the silver clasp from his cloak as he began to organize his potions equipment. He looked over at her table,

"What is that?"

"My stasis potion. Once I am able to successfully brew the Wolfsbane, then I can start to combine them. Unlike a traditional stasis, it will focus on prolonged potion effects rather than physically rendering the drinker static. I've been working on them over the past few weeks, but I have no idea how it will react with the host potion. Aconite is just so..."

" _Fragile_ ," Snape nodded, "but it should work with some adjustments. You'll be famous. The witch who cured lycanthropy."

"Werewolves are such good targets for media blame and scrutiny. I doubt that my makeshift concoction will even make the last page of the _Prophet."_

Severus exhaled sharply,

"We shall see about that. No colleague of mine would ever be snubbed by any of the popular journals. Not on their lives. When you're ready to publish, let me know."

"You would send in my research?" Hermione was shocked, "But, I'm not even your apprentice." The fact that he would put his name on the line for her and risk his reputation was unthinkable. The only professor who had ever given her embarrassingly low marks was willing to back her research? She couldn't believe it.

"I've looked at your stasis potions, and it's solid work. As long as your follow through is exemplary, I'd have no reservations about recommending your paper to any publisher you'd like. Provided you don't cut corners," he raised a warning eyebrow at her.

She tried to suppress a smile,

"Thank you so much, Severus. I'm honored."

She didn't get a response. After she had set up a second brewing station, she watched him carry out the Wolfsbane ingredients. He worked slowly beside her, adjusting his speed to allow her to emulate his skilled preparation techniques. Eventually, both of their potions were sputtering at a low boil, and for the first time in her life, Hermione was able to admire her very own viciously silky batch of blue Wolfsbane.

She sat back on her stool and let out a long sigh. After such a let down on her first attempt, she reveled in her success. Beside her, Snape sat with his arms crossed against his chest, surveying her work.

"Don't scald it," he muttered, reaching across her to move her pot farther from the flame. Hermione watched his fingertips carefully ease the cauldron around, patiently searching for the right spot. He looked at her,

"Well, you're in the club."

"The club?"

"I only know of five other wizards who were ever capable of this potion. There may certainly be more, but not many."

Hermione smiled,

"I'll be very proud when I can manage on my own."

"So will I," his voice was quiet and reserved, "These need another hour. Are you hungry?"

"We can't leave these boiling," she frowned, "But, I can run down to the Hall if you'll stay."

"That's fine," he nodded, wiping down the table.

Hermione left the lab and headed to the kitchens.

"Dobby!" She saw the elf helping sort the dishes and flatware.

"Hello!" The elf beamed at her, "Dobby is very happy to see you."

"I'm very happy to see you as well," she hugged him and helped put some dishes on the top shelf that he was barely too short to reach, "Can I grab some food for two, Dobby?"

"Of course!" He poofed out of existence for a few seconds and returned with two bags of food.

"Thanks, Dobby. Don't forget about meeting with me sometime soon. I've got loads of questions."

"Dobby will be sure to visit Hermione this week. See you soon!" He waved to her as she left the kitchen, her hands full of boxed food.

When she returned to the dungeon, the steam was still rising out of the containers. It smelled wonderful, and she hoped Severus wasn't a picky eater. She knocked on the lab door and heard him call for her to enter.

"I brought take away," She held up the bags proudly.

"Take what away?" Snape narrowed his eyes at her.

"Nevermind. Here," she handed him a box of food.

They ate in silence. Hermione watched him chew and drink, the lights from the burning candle chandeliers flickered along the walls of the room and across his face. He glanced over at her, and she turned back to her meal, suddenly very aware that she was staring.

"So, what did Lucius say about Harry's plans?" She asked.

"He's been offered dementor guards, but Narcissa is reluctant. Instead, he has warded the manor against any intruders without listed permission. Without some intense fire power, he'll be untouchable."

Hermione's thoughts went immediately to the twins' arsenal. Sure, they had bombs, but she knew that as soon as Lucius knew the exact night of the attack, the manor would be a sea of Death Eaters and dementors.

"Do you have the stasis potions prepared?" Snape began to bottle the Wolfsbane from his cauldron.

Hermione flicked her wand, removing the heat from the bottom of her pot, and started to bottle hers as well. She nodded, retrieving her potions from the cabinet.

"Any advice?" She stared at the two bottles; one cobalt, one clear. Hermione had no idea how to combine potions. Her research told her that it had been done before with multiple varying strength healing spells, some poisons, but never with two completely different potions altogether.

Snape pulled the two vials from her hand and went to the back cabinet. He rummaged in the top shelf, removing a small gleaming bowl from an old, black, paper box. He carried the bowl carefully over to a clean table and Hermione sat beside him. He handed her the stasis potion, his own fingers clasped around the Wolfsbane.

"What's this?" She asked.

He ran a long finger around the edge of the bowl. It sang out a high pitch, like a silver bell.

"This," Snape sighed, "was a gift from the Dark Lord upon my induction into the Inner Circle. It's one of a set of three. This is the largest. They're known as the Gift of the Marid." He pulled out his wand and made a small circle around the bowl as he explained, "Marid are legend. They are supposedly summoned only by immense offerings of human blood. When a Marid is pleased with his gruesome flattery will he bestow one wish upon his loyal follower. However, these bowls are not silver, nor platinum. They are what the Dark Lord calls _pure magic_ , as if he knows what pure magic looks like," Severus scoffed, "We murdered the man who possessed these bowls and took them for the Dark Lord. He keeps the smallest as a symbol of generosity, Lucius has the second, and I have the largest; a reward for my _impenetrable_ loyalty."

"But, what does it do?"

"I have no idea. I don't know what will happen. But, it's worth a try, yes? Pour on three," he waited until she uncorked the stasis potion, "One...two... _three_."

As they poured the potions, the streams combined in a spiraling tower. But, as they poured, the potions vanished, leaving the bowl untouched. They looked at each other, matching expressions on their faces.

Hermione flung her empty vial into the waste bin,

"Sod it!"

"Easy, Granger. Come on. Help me take the rest of these vials to the cabinet before you break the whole lot."

She watched him place the bowl back in the closet, organize their potions beside the others, and cast a swift cleansing charm on the lab. He eyed her for a moment, then, without reason, he asked her if she wanted to come by his quarters for a drink.

"To celebrate," he said, "It's a great thing you've done tonight."

She thought for a moment and nodded at him,

"Sure. I'm going to change out of these boots though. Be there in a minute."

He didn't respond. As she ducked into her rooms, she started to get nervous. _He invited me in for a drink. This can't be good._ Hermione thought about sitting in his living room, laughing, joking over butter beer...Six months ago, if she would've known she would be slipping into something comfortable to have drinks with Snape, she might have admitted herself to St. Mungo's. She pulled his necklace, with the now brightly glowing crystal, over her head and headed into the den.

After she fed Ashes, she trotted down the hall, and knocked on his portal. It opened for her, his wards yielding to her presence.

"Severus?" She rapped on the frame anyway, politely announcing her entry.

"Here," he stepped out of his bedroom with a bottle of liquor in one hand and two goblets balanced in the other, "Come in. Sit."

She watched him as he poured her a glass of fire whiskey.

"A toast to your first batch of successful Wolfsbane, a feat that few wizards can claim to have accomplished."

Smiling up at him, she tossed back the brown liquid and felt the burn of the alcohol as it slid down the back of her throat. She tried to calm her nerves, but after such a great accomplishment, her confidence got the best of her.

She sank into the sofa beside him, watching as he studied her. Should she have worn such a revealing blouse? Maybe not, but she was on a roll tonight.

"Shouldn't you get comfortable?" She gave him an innocent grin, "This is your living room, after all. You can't tell me you relax in that coat."

"My word," Severus mockingly replied, "How ever did you deduce that this wool, forty-button jacket was anything but _luxurious_ comfort?"

"They did say I was quite clever," she grinned, bravely gulping down another swallow of liquor, and trying not to grimace.

"Yes, they did. Well, Hermione," she swore she could listen to him say her name a thousand times and never tire of it, "the coat is for your benefit. I'm afraid that the life of a criminal is one that I wear _permanently_ on my person...in more ways than one, as you have no doubt seen during your healing endeavors. The scars it has left behind are... _especially fetching_."

"Right, because I'm clearly daunted by scars," she pulled away another button of her shirt and brandished the rune on her chest like a challenge. He stared at it, suddenly immobile. "Here," she set down her glass and carefully reached out for the first button, "I'll help you. I'm a professional at buttons."

"It's good to know that your inane ability to master tasks put before you extends to all factions of your life," his voice darkened as he joked with her, "So, you've had some experience in the matter of gentlemen's buttons then?"

"More than once," she shrugged.

It was no secret. She and Victor had spent more time snogging than they did talking. In fact, Hermione had preferred him with his mouth shut. After some time together, she let things get a little out of hand, and the deed was done. Not nearly as scary as she had been led to believe, and more enjoyable than she expected. While she might not have been a seasoned pro at men's... _buttons_ , this was certainly not her first attempt.

Her heart pounded in her throat with each pop of a soft button. He remained perfectly still, studying her, full glass in hand. He watched as she pulled away at each of the clasps, but then he stopped her, pulling out his wand to accomplish the task in one fell swoop. Beneath the stiff jacket was a white men's shirt. He flicked his wand and hung the jacket on the hook of his coat rack.

He rolled up his crisp sleeves, and for the first time, Hermione was able to study his skin. As he tied his hair behind his head, she could see the Dark Mark as well as a number of different inked symbols and incantations on his forearm. But, jagged scars ran like long snakes through many of the tattooed designs. She reached out and touched a tiny scar on the inside of his elbow that was cut like a half circle.

"A banshee," he explained, "Bellatrix thought she could keep it as a pet. Nearly killed her, but unfortunately she survived. It was my job to dispose of it. Easier said than done."

"I have one just like it," Hermione kicked off her sandal, pulled up her bare foot, and showed him her heel, "But, I got mine from a bicycle. Fell right into a ditch. Nearly gave my mother a heart attack."

"Sounds dangerous," he mocked her.

She laughed,

"It was!"

He chuckled, summoning the carafe of whiskey to their spot on the sofa. He poured a large serving of it into her tumbler, and took a long drink from his.

"So, let's see the others then. Mine are all from... _nasty_ experiences, not to be repeated over polite conversation. But, I'd very much like to hear about this one," he ran a soft finger across her eyebrow.

"Well," she managed another sip of fire whiskey, "during my first year, these bastards decided to build a life-size version of wizard's chess in the basement of a _school_..."

He let out a full laugh knowingly. The trio's misadventure with the Sorcerer's Stone had become a well-known legend.

"I believe I am one of those bastards. Pretty pathetic chessboard, if you ask me. Couldn't even keep out a couple of first years," Snape finished his cup in a single gulp and leaned back against the couch. He watched her take a sip from her glass. His eyes narrowed and his voice strained in an odd tone, "What about this one?" He pointed to her chest, "What happened there?"

He ran a thumb lightly across the rune, and the backs of his fingers brushed hotly against her skin.

She took a deep breath, "I guess you and I have more than one mark in common."

"Hermione," he said, "When I heard what Lucius wanted to do to you after he saw you in the hall, I had to fight the urge to end his life right here in these rooms. The way you moved to save my life, even if it means putting yours at risk... your energy, your kindness. I am often less than polite, but never have you wavered in your loyalty. You have a habit of...untying the knots which I have tried to keep in place. I have been attempting to refrain for some time...but, I'm not sure how much longer I can... _bridle_ my emotions."

He set his glass on the table and reached out for her hand. Her breathing shuddered in her chest as she felt his warm fingers encircle her wrist, pulling her into him. His breathing quickened, and he was holding her close enough that she could feel his pounding pulse. He was staring at her mouth, and he confessed,

"I have failed to control this impulse. I want to be inside of your skin. I want to _plunge_ into you. It's your smell, those lips..."

His fragmented speech was silenced as she pressed her mouth to his, and he inhaled the scent of her vanilla skin. She ran a slick tongue between his lips, and he pulled her into him, crushing her body against his.

"So," he whispered into her ear, running his fingers through her curls, "You've been with boys before, is that correct?"

She nodded, her body tightening in anticipation at the threatening tone of his voice.

"Well," he growled, "tonight, you're with a man."

He jerked her hair back, mercilessly exposing her neck and bare collar bone to his mouth. As he explored her skin, she felt a sharp heat rise up through her core, an unmistakable promise of what was to come. The man searched her body for any signs of reluctance or fear. Moments of terror mixed with moments of excitement. His age hid his nervousness, but she had seen enough doubt to know the look.

Without the restricting jacket, he ceased to be unapproachable. He looked so much younger without the coal uniform. The excitement, the apprehension, the urge to be a part of someone else smoothed out the worry lines from his brow, and hope spread across his visage like butter in a pan.

As she plucked at the first mother-of-pearl button on his shirt, it folded under the pressure, and popped away from the hole. The second, resisting at first, relented with a deft tug. She moved for the third, her hands slipping through the deep-pocketed opening, fingers brushing the rune carving etched at the warm join of his rib cage.

His hands pulled at her sweater like wrapping paper, tearing her bra straps down her shoulders. The cotton cups fell away from her breasts, and he peeled her skirt over her head, hair and clothing blinding her vision. She was unwound, freed like a walnut from its shell. Snape stared at her, his brow furrowed at the sight of her nakedness.

"Oh, fuck me. Look at you. _Merlin_..." he lamented, cursing his own inadequacy at the mere sight of her. He breathed in sharply, deeply in awe of her ocean of olive skin, dotted with tawny freckles, and burning hot to the touch. As he gazed upon her form, her hips as they swayed in front of the small fire, her mounds and trunks spread across his sight like a dusky plain. Her youth became glaringly apparent. He moved to blow out the candles' flames, but Hermione stopped him,

"Don't. Please."

"Hermione, you don't have to see... _this_. My scars aren't rakish or aesthetic in the least. I'm... a monster."

She saw the regret rush behind his eyes, but she continued to pull his shirt off his back, arm by arm in abyssal silence. Her hands brushed over the thick, knotted scars that she had healed on his rib cage, purposefully touching them as if to wipe the pain away.

"You're no monster. You're a hero." Her voice deepened in the same way that batter thickens in a bowl. Rich and suffocating, it folded into his senses and stirred the pieces of him left over from a time before his plagued existence. A time when his pieces were parts of a worthy whole.

"No, I don't think I am," he smiled, then he rushed her; a one man stampede. The smile melted into a hungry snarl as he bit at her jaw line. His hands held her, and enclosed in his fierce grip, she was helpless to his whims. If she had wanted to flee, she knew he could halt her escape simply by tightening his grasp. His graceful brutality shocked her. He continued to hold her, pinned, like a lamb in the arms of a shepherd, prey in a bird's talons. She felt helpless and safe at the same time. But, as he moved toward her, she felt a pull from deep within her, an urgency.

He stared at her, still reeling from the shock of beauty. She was unlike anything he had ever seen. Snape had been with women, more than he was willing to admit. As a Death Eater, it was impossible to avoid. But, he always tried to display his disgust at revels, pretending that Muggles were beneath him so that Lucius would ignore him as he tried to cast silent charms to stop their pain. Hermione deserved so much more than what he could give her. Her wit, her heart, her skin...it was almost too much for him to handle. He was no hero. He was a man taking advantage of this kind, innocent girl. He was the villain. But, he was helpless to the call. Had he wanted to, he wasn't sure if he would be able to walk away with his sanity in tact. So, he reached out for her instead.

His fingers were long and thick, calloused from potions work, and as he petted her breasts in big downward sweeping strokes, she felt the strength in his hands and the warmth of his palm. Like building a hill in the sand, his movements pulled her body up and into his reach like clay, like snow. Her taught skin and young lips made him painfully aware of his own age.

True, he was no Adonis. But, she couldn't tell the difference now. To her, a flawless form would have ruined the experience. One less wrinkle would have made her pause. He existed as he was, as she did; without edits, with rough edges, without statuesque preconceptions, and rife with life that was being lived.

As those hands smoothed down her curves, she felt his deft finger tips search through her shock of soft fur to find her wetness. When he did, she saw the change run through his head. His eyes darkened, driven by instinct alone. He was no longer just a man, a professor, a Death Eater. Those things had vanished. He was a beast with an appetite.

She felt herself being lifted, positioned onto his lap on the sofa. He pulled away his slacks, and her hands found his warm cock. As she touched him, something within her flickered, like an old light bulb, like a broken film strip, a record that was beginning to play. She bent to suck the early moisture from his tip, and kissed the hood tentatively, waiting for a reaction. He let out a slow exhale and his sigh was like a flog, too much for her to ignore. She took him in her mouth and lapped at his edges. She began to need him to sigh again.

Snape watched her tongue fold over his head, felt her lips surround his girth, and for the first time that he could remember, he lost himself to her ritual. He had forgotten this feeling, the ecstasy of a true partner. When he was younger, few girls had fit the bill. But, Snape needed Hermione more than he thought he would. Her whole existence became his top priority. Whatever he needed to do to make her his, he would do it, or he would die trying.

She looked up at him for a moment, her big brown eyes bright with anticipation. Severus raised her up, grabbing her haunches and placing her across his spread legs. Her own legs crossed behind his back, holding her in place. He pulled her to him, hard, a strong tug filled with need. She eased his glistening head into her body like a finger into a glove. Hermione felt him carefully fill her up, her muscles relaxing to accept the intrusion. She watched him shut his eyes in bliss. There was another lovely sigh, and as she began to rock back and forth, she curled an arm around his neck.

Then, he kissed her, tasted her waxy lip balm and traces of whiskey, felt her teeth with his tongue. She pressed her nose beside his nose, ran a hand up his neck and jaw, his five o'clock shadow razing her wrist like grains of sand. Feeling his breath escape his nose, and watching his brow knit and furrow made her thirst for more of his heavy grip, more of that power.

He felt her surround him, her honeyed heat dripping down onto his thighs and balls, matting the hair, clear and sticky. With each thrust, he felt her contract and quiver. He smelled her wet scent on his hand as she licked his finger, and he fought to focus. Placing his finger tips on her clit, he felt her grind into his touch. Then, her soft hands began to push on his collar bone. He leaned back and lay against the smooth leather sofa. She slid her softness up and over his shaft, circling her hips at the peak, and swallowing him in her body again. The fire he felt when he filled her rent him like a canyon, and her gasps of pleasure ripped through his mind. He knew he had to hear her scream and watch her writhe. Severus wanted to see her melt, dissolve like smoke over the top of a flame. He needed to witness her inhibitions decompose underneath him.

As he shifted his weight and moved behind her, Hermione gasped. He held her to him, kneeling over her like a hound, his forearms pressed into her hip bones, trapping her movements. Without waiting for her to settle, he pounded into her, pulling her body fiercely onto his cock and pushing it into her walls. Her cries sent waves of energy up his back and down his loins.

In her ear, he whispered to her, panting, "I want to tear you apart."

She was on her knees, her toned back stretched out before him like a long flatland, the shadows of the room dusting her skin like clouds above an empty field. He reached under her and vibrated her swollen lips with his knuckles, watching her seize and moan. Her screaming filled the room. She cried out to him,

"Please, don't stop. Please, _Severus_..."

She fluttered. He felt her come coat his shaft as she gushed out an orgasm. He couldn't help but groan in sweet agony at the feel of her muscles squeezing around him like a delicate vice. Hermione turned to look at him as he thrust into her, and as she did, he let out a deep, guttural shout. Shoving himself deep into her body, he sprayed thick, hot ropes of come onto her walls, his stomach tight and his hips shamelessly bucking to fit more of his cock inside of her.

Carefully, he fell away from her and collapsed, gasping. His body was electric, and her gentle kisses on his neck intensified the warm tingle. She lay beside him, her chest crushing against his ribs, their breath and hearts heaving from the stress. He twisted to look at her face, with eyes closed and parted, flushed lips. He smiled, and let out a soft chuckle; on the edge of being genuinely happy for the first time in years.

But, she didn't hear him. Half-asleep on his arm, dozing from the endorphins, he could feel her soft breathing brush across his chest. Severus made a silent wish that the sunlit dawn wouldn't make her regret their night together, and an even darker prayer that he wouldn't regret trusting her. He pulled a blanket up and over their bodies, doused the lights, and allowed himself to sink into a shared slumber, his face half-buried in her vanilla curls.

 **Thanks to everyone who made it this far. More to come. Be sure to review if you have comments. I don't have a ton of experience, so I'd appreciate the input. #LadyLash#**


	12. A Cat May Look at a King

Chapter Twelve: _A Cat May Look at a King_

The next morning, Snape awoke alone, still naked on the sofa. He was covered with the blanket that they had shared, but his sleeping mate was gone. Knowing that she had left without waking him made him worry about his success both as an effective spy as well as a desirable partner. He stretched, gingerly rising up off of the soft couch cushions. His body ached from his recent exertion. _You are too old for that girl_ , he thought, then quickly pushed it out of his mind in a fury.

Severus had to admit that waking up alone had inspired at least a little self-loathing. He couldn't help but feel lonely and very inadequate. But, it was only right, he supposed. They had both taken what they wanted from the other, and that was that. He could ignore it if she could. Professional. Proper. _Right_.

After cleaning the room and putting on a fresh set of robes, he sat down at his desk with a pot of tea. The Order meeting was tonight, but he had his Advanced Potions class to teach that morning and mid-afternoon. He thought, fleetingly, that Hermione would have liked to lead the lab sections that day, since the Felix Felicitis potion was one of her favorite brewing challenges. The quality of her vial during her seventh year was a thing of beauty.

He saw a note pinned to the door. Snape took it and read her swirling writing, his pulse quickening:

 _Breakfast in the lab? Trying out the static blend again._

 _H._

Snape burned the letter in the fireplace, and headed down to meet her. He found her hunched over a mixing bowl, adding Wolfsbane and her stasis potion with tiny eyedroppers. An uneaten, honey beignet sat next to his empty cauldron, and tea was brewing behind her station.

He stood beside her, watching as she dropped the two liquids simultaneously. When they touched, a small puff of smoke rose from the now-putrid combination.

"Another poison," she sighed, "I've tried _everything_. I attempted all of the usual protective runes, I've tried to remix the stasis potion, I even recited a verbal spell from a bloody book! Nothing works."

"A verbal spell? Is it suddenly the Middle Ages? Strange that I hadn't noticed going back in time this morning," Snape's mouth curled into a small smirk.

"I'm not proud of it, alright?" She chuckled, throwing out the poison and scouring the mixing bowl. Hermione watched as he sat beside her, taking two extra vials of potion from her tube rack. He opened an old textbook and searched through the index.

"Do you think something in there can help us?"

"No," he flipped the pages, "but if you've stooped to reciting ancient incantations, the least I can do is read through a list of possible combination trials."

They sat in silence for a while. Hermione glanced up at him every few minutes, wondering if he was thinking about what had happened on the previous night. She couldn't stop herself from dwelling on it. When she awoke this morning, tucked firmly against his warm core, she thought she would never leave. His soft snores lulled her into a dull state, safe and cozy, she regretfully tried to sneak out unnoticed. The view of his body under the blanket was intense. Hermione wasn't one to shirk at scars or other blemishes. She had seen Remus come back from a change in pretty terrible shape. But, this was something else entirely. Snape had deep ruts in his back and sides. His rib cage looked like it had been run through a shredder. There were bruises that burst over his pale skin like black and yellow flowers. In her lustful stupor last night, she had been so sure that it wasn't all that bad.

The tattoos were shocking when she had a chance to really study them. Almost all of them were runic spells of one form or another. Some of the symbols had been covered in her Ancient Runes course, but Professor Babbling had warned against delving into any research on that sort of thing. She guessed that these were marks of loyalty, or binding spells, and not simply frivolous artwork. But, as she looked down at him, and all his mangled tissue, something in her gut hardened in a steely resolve. He was prepared to die, but she promised him, in a silent, mouthed whisper, that she would not let that happen.

Now, here he was, buttoned up in his thick cloak, as dark and imposing as ever. The night before felt so far away.

"I'm planning on bringing up the information about the _donation_ made to the Aurors tonight," she said ruefully. She didn't want to hear the backlash that her accusations were sure to cause.

"I am sorry that I can't support you in person. Moody and Potter might not want to admit to the truth about their pathetic clan, but they still need to hear it. Alsgard has ties to the Aurors, but she just wants her _revenge_. She'll acknowledge you, at least," he was marking down some notes on scrap parchment.

"I don't know. I'll be alone on this, I think. Harry and I haven't been on the best of terms anyway. I bet he'll be really cross about it."

"You won't be alone," he looked up at her, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"I'll come look for you after everyone leaves. I'd really like to work on my Wolfsbane some more. I might be a bit off on my runes. Do you have time to take a look after the meeting?"

Severus nodded,

"Are you available to assist in the labs? The sixth years are brewing their first batches of Veritus Serum."

"Yeah," Hermione smiled, remembering how much fun she had figuring out that potion, "what time?"

"Ten and three. Be early, or don't come at all," he lifted the pastry off the desk and retreated from the workspace.

"Alright then," Hermione bristled at the unexpected hostility. _What's he on about?_

He chomped down most of the biscuit, and as he started to leave the lab, Severus could breathe again. Standing next to her and being able to smell her soap and perfume forced him to relive the night before in brief, vivid flashes. He needed to order his notes, he needed to prepare the ingredients, and he did not need the echoes of Hermione's soft cries of his name cluttering his thoughts.

"Severus?" her voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned to her and waited, pretending to be in a motivated rush.

She continued,

"Did you want to talk about yesterday?"

He spun away from her, cloak swishing into the hallway, and she was alone again.

Hermione sighed,

"Guess not."

After cleaning up the last of the hazardous waste from her failed potions, she made her way to her room to change for Snape's class. She only had a short while before she had to show up in the potions lab, but for once in her life, she was thankful for having to live so close to it in the dungeons. She wondered about his foul mood. Was he upset with what had happened yesterday? And if he was, why hasn't he said so? Severus Snape was not the type of man to avoid a confrontation. Hermione sighed audibly and pushed it out of her mind. They were drinking, it was the Animus Charm's fault, it was _nothing_.

She sped down the hallway to the potions lab, happy for the chance to assist. His students were working when she entered, their lab had begun during the lecture and she was here to help Snape put out fires, hopefully not literally. He was seated at his desk, red ink soaking the tip of a quill, never once acknowledging her presence. She paced the isles, stopping every now and then to demonstrate an easier way to crush seeds or strain plant pulp. Really, the Americans were great at following directions, but they seemed to overlook the true art of potions just like any third year.

"Well, now. Helpful and handy. They don't know what a great Potion's mistress they've really got here at Hogwarts, do they?" A deep, American twang froze Hermione to her spot in the class. She watched as Snape's eyes shot up to look for the voice's source. Remy came up behind her, slowly wrapping a hand around her shoulder and pushing past her body unnecessarily close. She felt his fingers graze her waist and decided silently that she would end him if he ever came that near again.

"Make sure you don't coddle my little third years, darlin'. They'll forget that my bark is just as bad as my bite."

Severus grabbed LaBeaux by the shoulder a little too firmly as he ushered him out of the classroom and snapped at his students,

"Madam Granger is in control of this class. See to it that she receives the same respect that I do, since her punishment for you will probably be worse than anything I could hope to dream up."

The Americans all eyed her now, anxiety and curiosity causing them to stare. Hermione smiled, trying to signal that he was just joking, but it only made it more awkward. She tried to ignore the voices coming from the hall, jumbled as they were, Hermione could still make out the harsh tones in their conversation.

In the hall, Snape turned on LaBeaux like a bull,

"What are you doing here?"

"Just thought I would check in... _sir_. Are you available to meet tonight?"

"Yes, after ten. Why?"

"Lucius and I have a solution to our _wolf_ problem, and I can't help but be a little excited about it," he chuckled lightly, "and I'll be damned if she isn't perfect for the job."

"She?" Snape spat.

"That mudblood."

"That _mudblood_ is none of your business. She is an explicit project for the Dark Lord, and therefore she is _my_ property, _my_ responsibility. If I see your filthy fucking hands on her again, I'll make sure that the only way you can hold a wand is between your teeth," Severus let out his tirade in a swift whisper, "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. But, after tonight, you might just change your mind," a smirk oozed across the werewolf's face.

Snape watched as Remy sauntered off down the hall, whistling in the darkness of the dungeon, and even though he knew nothing of the American's plan, he had a good idea of what it could be.

Later that evening, Hermione arrived at the Order meeting far too early. After helping Snape in class and dealing with LaBeaux, she decided to take a walk and collect her thoughts. The last twenty four hours had been chaotic. The pull of the Animus Hex was elusive and demanding. Like a bad addiction, it was ever-present, nudging her closer and closer to Severus Snape and the other half of her split soul. Their sex had been better than Hermione had previously experienced, but she felt as if they had rushed into it. She blamed herself, and the curse, for not taking time to get to know him more beforehand. Promising to at least try to scrape the surface of such a complex man, Hermione let her thoughts drift away as she enjoyed her walk across the grounds in the cool, cloudy evening.

It was too early for snow, but too late for flowers. She surveyed the yellowing leaves and hoped that the meeting would go well. She was nervous for Harry, more nervous about the twins, and worried that Alsgard would be the entire endeavor's undoing. Harry wasn't going to like what she had to say, none of them would, but she needed to at least bring it up before it blindsided them when they least expected it. It seemed warped and sickening to think that Aurors would actually switch sides, but Hermione knew that Voldemort had more than one way to convince someone to do his bidding.

She opened the door to the Order building and looked around. They had really cleaned the place up over the last few weeks. All the equipment and furniture was in its place, pictures and relics were hung neatly on the walls, and big, arching sun-lit gables let in the setting sun as it melted into the treeline of the Forbidden Forest. Hermione could hear noises coming from the adjoining room, so she moved for the door.

Alone at a desk, Remus sat with his quill clutched in his hand with nothing more than navy pants and a grey sweater. He was barefoot, and completely lost in thought. Hermione thought it best not to sneak up on the seasoned wolf, so she called out to him,

"Remus?"

He spun to look at her. When he realized who she was, his face lifted into a bright smile. Moments ago, he had just been writing about her in a letter to Sirius. Sirius had gone to France for Harry as his ambassador to Beauxbatons, but would be returning by the end of the next week. Remus and Sirius' love of letter writing had been a true constant over the many years they had been friends, and Remus trusted him with all of his affairs. Trusted him enough, in fact, to admit that he had fallen for Hermione quite suddenly over the few short months that they had been reunited. She was beautiful and loyal as anyone could hope to be. But, he knew she was focused, maybe too focused to be a part of something with someone who had so much...baggage.

As he looked upon her now, her pure, elemental form unblemished by years or by loss was sculpted by the hardship that was her world. He had tried to get Severus to see her as this powerful, new witch, but Snape be damned. Remus hoped that whatever business she had with the Animus Hex was over with, and he hoped he could show her that in spite of his monstrous counterparts, he would try to care for her in the best way. He hugged her in greeting, and breathed in her warm scent.

"Hermione," he sat with her on the chaise and poured her some tea, "you're here early."

"That makes two of us," she smiled.

"I was just sending a letter to Sirius. His visit to Marseille has been going quite well apparently. Beauxbatons has always been a loyal friend to Hogwarts."

"We'll, be sure to send him my best," Hermione took a long sip from her teacup, "How have you been, Remus? Are you healed up?"

"Oh, yes. Good as new, thanks to you and Black. I hope LaBeaux is worse for wear."

"I saw him today," Hermione groaned, "He's a real bastard."

Remus bristled, his voice darkening,

"Did he hurt you? If he even touched you - "

"I'm a full grown witch. I promise I can fend for myself," she smiled at him reassuringly, not bothering to mention that Severus had already beaten him to the over-protective punch.

"I believe it," he smiled back.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, occasionally chatting about this or that. Eventually, Remus couldn't stop himself from asking,

"This may be a bit forward, but I need to know. Did you go through with the Animus Hex?"

"Why do you need to know?" For some reason, Hermione felt herself become defensive.

"I just do."

"Well, yes. I had to," she admitted. It felt good to come clean about it to someone.

Remus sighed,

"We're you forced?"

"Probably not in the way you're thinking. It's just...complicated," she paused for a minute, unsure of what to say. But, she opened her collar just enough to show him the scar.

"Hell, Hermione. Can anything really be this bad?" He ran a finger over it just as Snape had the previous night. The similarity made her shudder.

Remus enveloped her in a tight embrace and whispered in her ear,

"Don't lose hope. I might have found a way to fix all this."

Hermione looked at him, shocked at what his words implied, but before she could reply, Ginny, Ron, and Harry burst into the study. Hermione fixed her top in a rush and stood to greet each of her friends. Before long, the hall was bustling with Order members, and people began to take their seats. Dumbledore was the last to arrive, and he entered with some haste, clutching rolls and rolls of parchment under his arm.

"Excuse me! Excuse me," Harry cried out above the chatter and waited for silence, "First of all, I'd like to thank you all for coming, and I'd like to give a special welcome to the members of the DA who have chosen to join us." There was light applause, the he continued,

"I know that I promised you a plan, a real plan, and I think I've made good on that promise today. We are going to take down Malfoy Manor on New Year's Eve . We have been informed by Albus' inside man that Voldemort will be at the manor that night to host a celebration for his Death Eaters. We are hoping to catch them off guard, and possibly end this war once and for all."

There was some hushed, shocked response at Harry's plan, and Dumbledore moved to the front of the room,

"These," he said as he lifted the parchment rolls into the air, "are the blueprints of the manor. The best way for entry, in my opinion, is through the sewage tunnels, but we need to blow a hole in a meter of concrete to do so."

"That's the _best_ way?" Arthur Weasley chuckled.

"Well," the headmaster continued, "there are countless wards surrounding the entire house, except for the sewer line. However, there are about ten dementor guards, traps laid throughout the grounds, and hidden portkeys on a number of the home's doorknobs, which is obviously problematic since none of us are aware of how to open the doors otherwise. Then, if we do manage to get into the house, which has an anti-cloaking and reverse polyjuice ward, we will be greeted by every known Death Eater, their families, and Tom Riddle himself."

Harry let out a low whistle. Silence filled the hall. Suddenly, the group so keen on an offensive plan was retracing their steps. Courageous as they pretended to be, no one actually wanted to come face to face with the Dark Lord.

"Well, it seems like you need a distraction," Hermione shrugged.

"What about your spy?" Alsgard asked the headmaster.

"He has informed me that he will be able to make a straight path for us from the sewers to the main hall, but other than that, he said that he thinks we would have an easier time breaking into Gringott's."

There were multiple groans from all around the room. It seemed like they were going after a whale shark with a butter knife and a paddle boat. Harry spoke up,

"This is what you wanted, yes? A big show of strength in the face of evil? If you aren't willing to put in the work, this is never going to happen."

The talking continued for a while, many people coming up with their own ideas that never really had a chance, and Hermione took her chance to talk to Dumbledore and Harry,

"Harry, have you seen this article?"

"No. What about it?" His voice was strained and frustrated.

"I think we might have to prepare ourselves for the real possibility that some of the Aurors are being paid off by Lucius Malfoy."

"That's a very strong accusation, Madame Granger," Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, it is," Harry spat, "As if I didn't have enough of a mess already, now you're saying I need to look into the Aurors? You've got to be kidding me, Hermione. I don't need this right now."

"No one _needs_ this right now, but if you ignore it and he has someone on the inside like we do," she stole a quick glance at Albus, "we won't be able to move, much less burn down Draco's family home."

"His _family_ _home_? It's not like it's the Burrow. It's a Death Eater nest!" Harry was livid.

"Harry," Hermione tried to stay calm, "I'm on your side, but if you think that there is not at least some good in evil people, then you must think that there is no room for evil in good people, and I know you know that isn't the case. It's his home and you're attacking it, just like the Dark Lord attacked yours."

"Yeah except we won't be - "

"Won't be what?" She barked, "Won't be murdering people? We will be murdering people! We'll be killing them, just like they killed your parents. Look at these people," Hermione waved at the room, silent now and fixed on Harry, "Just look at all of these good, loving people ready to become murderers just for the _cause_. Because they have experienced loss and you are the one who promised them relief from their strife! I know you grew up in the Muggle world just like I did, so don't tell me that you don't think that all of those Death Eaters, hiding under their masks of fear from years of torture at the hands of a bloody madman aren't people. Don't tell me that they never loved, or lost, or felt pain.

And don't tell me that you don't _need this right now_. You know what I need right now? Some security in knowing that the Aurors who we are trusting with our lives are actually on our side. A little reassurance. A little teamwork. If you can't even give me that, what makes me believe that you really know what will heal our pain? This is revenge and it is murder and it's okay, because we're the good guys, _right_? The good guys. The heroes. Well, you want to know something, Harry? I've met heroes, and you aren't it. Not right now. You were, and you still can be, but this close-minded flailing is going to get us all killed, heroes or not."

They were both standing now, with Dumbledore seated between them. She could see the fury in Harry's face, but she knew that he couldn't tell her she was wrong, because she wasn't. But, she also knew that Harry's anger at Voldemort trumped all reason. She wouldn't hold it against him. He thought he hated her, she was sure, but she knew he would come around. He always did. And if he didn't, he still had Ron. She wasn't worried about him. But, she was worried about the rest of the people in the room. They needed to hear what she had to say more than he did.

His breathing slowed, and even though his anger was still simmering at the surface, he spoke,

"Moody, look into it. Report back if you find anything," he got in her face, "and we will continue with our original plan. Dismissed."

He was gone in a flash. No one wanted to hang around after that awkward exchange. Hermione sank back into her seat and waited for the crowd to clear. Ron and Ginny gave her half smiles, and Minerva put a hand on her shoulder. But, just when she thought she was alone, Remus held out his hand to help her up,

"My word. You've been working with Snape too much. Death Eaters are people, too? Don't let Severus' _congeniality_ fool you. Not all of them are so... _sweet._ But, let me know if you need help with the rally or the sit-in. At least the house elves will get a break."

His sarcasm bit at her. He knew nothing about Severus and how many sacrifices he made for all these people. He didn't need to be _sweet_ to them, too. He had saved their lives. They should be thanking him, but they would never even know the truth.

She shook her head,

"They are people, though. Lucius has a _child_ , for crying out loud. A child. He is a bloody parent. No one is handing out medals to him for best father of the year, but I don't doubt for a second that he would do anything to protect his son. He may even be doing it right now. People are afraid and they are desperate, and that includes the Malfoys. They aren't exempt from tyranny just because they picked the side without _Harry Bloody Potter_."

"It's James, but I think you know that already," a voice came from the open door. Hermione spun around and saw Harry and Ginny standing in the archway.

"Oh," Hermione took a breath in, unable to come up with words.

"Look," he sat down next to her, "I'm not gonna say that I'm not mad, because I am. But, I just want you to know that I hear you. Malfoy might be a prat, a really evil prat, but he's a person and I'm not saying he isn't. But, these people won't stop, Hermione. They believe that our deaths will solve their problems. They let go of mercy a long time ago, and they won't hesitate to pull their wands. You must know that I have to do this, but I understand if you don't."

She sighed,

"Don't be daft. I'm still here, aren't I? Ginny, did you make him come back?"

Ginny smiled,

"Oh, yes. I'm not spending my entire Saturday shopping for dresses and trying to keep you two from pulling the other's hair out!" She laughed, "I hope you don't mind if the boys go with us."

Hermione watched Ginny suggestively raise her eyebrows behind Remus's back. So, she had invited him? _Great. Can't wait for Severus to hear about this._

She beamed back at Ginny, trying to put on her best face,

"No! Of course not. A day with the three of you would be like a breath of fresh air."

"Excellent," Ginny grabbed Harry by the arm and strode off to the castle, "See you two later!"

Hermione thought her voice was just a little too sing-song as she left her alone with the werewolf. _Well,_ Hermione thought, _maybe not quite so alone._ She had promised to meet Severus after the meeting, but she couldn't see him in the darkness on the lawn.

Suddenly, Remus looped a warm arm around her shoulders as they walked, and all Hermione could think about was Severus. She thought that he would be jealous, maybe she hoped that he would. _He's probably not even here_. She frowned inwardly, and she gave up trying to find his tall, cloaked figure in the fog.

"What are you looking for?" Remus asked, "Don't worry. I won't let any harm come to you, Hermione. I promise. Besides, the castle is safe enough. Maybe a centaur or two."

"And wolves," she added, giving him a long stare.

Her comment definitely took the wind out of his sails. He nodded, staring at the grass beneath their feet,

"Yes, and wolves," he paused and then turned to her, "Am I really so bad that you can't be alone with me?"

"No, Remus, of course not. I'm just...it's just been a long day is all. I didn't mean it that way."

"Well, good," he tightened his grip around her shoulders, "I know we'll be off with _the Potters_ during the day this Saturday," he winked, "but if you aren't too repulsed by the thought of spending time with me that night, I'd love to take you for a drink. Maybe at a Muggle pub! Never been to one of those. You'd be the expert," he flashed a row of blazing white teeth at her. But, there was something unnatural about his smile. _Nervous?_ Hermione thought, _He's asking me on a date!_ But, she was silent for too long, and he added quickly, "You know, just as friends. Just a drink."

"Oh, right! Well, yes of course. I don't see why not," she tried to smile back at him in earnest.

What could she tell him? _No, sorry, I bound my soul to Severus Snape a few weeks ago when he was dying in my arms?_ It didn't seem like the best strategy. To make things worse, she actually thought she could like Remus, if her life wasn't so complicated. Maybe in another life, an easier life, one where he wasn't a ravenous hound twelve times a year, and she wasn't a half-souled healer tied to a permanent binding hex with the world's most powerful wizard.

"Are you sure? I don't want to interrupt any plans," he asked her. She noticed him eyeing her scarred sternum.

She shrugged,

"Nope, my weekend is pretty free."

"Great," Remus smiled at her as they crossed through the doors of the castle and into the courtyard, "I'm looking forward to it."

She watched him walk away, and when he was far enough out of hearing distance, she called out into the dark,

"Severus?"

She whispered a little louder,

"Severus?"

Nothing stirred in the shadows and she retreated to the dungeons completely alone.


	13. The Sea is Boiling Hot

Chapter Thirteen: _The Sea is Boiling Hot_

When Hermione stepped into the stairwell next to the Great Hall, she felt around in her jumper pocket. Then, just when she thought she left it on her bedside table, her fingers wound around the cold steel of Snape's charmed necklace. She peered into the glowing crystal and headed for his rooms. She wanted to tell him about the meeting. She didn't want to tell him about Remus, but she knew she should, even if he didn't believe her that she only wanted to remain friends. _Just friends._

 _Alright_ , she admitted to herself, _that's total bollocks_. Remus certainly saw her as more than a friend, and Hermione couldn't find a fault in his advances other than the fact that she didn't know him in that way. Could she grow to like him? Well, he wasn't at all hard on the eyes, and his genuine, frank care for her was endearing in all the best ways. However, his furry counter-persona was the stuff of nightmares for her. She had been on the business end of those jaws and she didn't care to repeat it. Could she sleep at night wrapped in his arms as she had laid in Snape's and know that she would be just as safe? More loved, perhaps, but no, not as safe.

But, what exactly were she and Severus? Yes, they shared broken pieces of each other's soul, but did that make them anything more than bondmates? The sexual attraction was hard to ignore. Skin to skin contact was the only way for their souls to reunite, but did he have actual feelings for her? Did she, and could she really see him as a potential partner? Could she...grow to love him? She might envision him as a man who could care for her as Remus did, but he was broken by this war. Yes, he had pledged to keep her safe and to provide for her needs, but Hermione suspected that he had lost his trust in so much of the world that he may not be able to give himself over to a real, adult relationship. Maybe the sex was all he could allow. Could she live a life of nothing but a physical connection, like some sort of arranged partnership? It made her head spin.

 _Cross that bridge when we get to it, Granger_ , she thought to herself. Right now, she needed to focus on the Order's plans, not on the fact that she would soon be back in Snape's quarters, sitting on _that_ sofa, mere centimeters away from those strong hands of his. Just the memory of the living room made the events of the previous night hit her like a ton of bricks. How was she supposed to focus when all she could think about was his earthy scent and that perfect voice? She shook it off, forcing herself to count her footsteps, think about her stasis potion, anything except that voice.

She knocked.

"Enter," he called out.

"Severus - "

"And how was your walk back to the castle? Come to tell me how excited you are about your _date_?" His tone was poisonous. She narrowed her gaze at him, and she could feel all her resolve stiffen into anger.

"No, I...well, what else was I supposed to say? Are you wanting to tell him about how we decided to trade scars the other night? Because I thought I was still under a contract of secrecy, or whatever nonsense this is."

"I expect you to tell me if you are going to pursue him... _romantically_ ," his words were curt and punctuated. She could feel the bursts of rage behind each one.

"When are you going to let this go? I told you I think of him as a friend, and that's that. I also told you that we would try to make this less painful, whatever that entails. Last night, when we, well, it was a little...sudden for me, but I guess...I just, I just don't know what to do.

When I am away from you, I think about you. When you're in the room, I find myself closing the gap between us. It's not conscious, or maybe it is. I don't know what it is, but obviously the hex has had some affect on our lives, and until we figure this out, I don't have the capacity for a _romantic anything_ with _anyone_. Am I clear?"

There was a long pause. She could hear a leaky tap drip in his small kitchen. She waited for him to reply. He didn't. He simply sank down into a chair and rubbed his face with his hands. Finally, he stared down into the fireplace and muttered,

"Yes, fine. It's fine. Just get out of here, Granger. I am far too exhausted for this fight tonight."

She didn't know what made her do it, but after a while of watching him gaze tired into the flames, she reached out a hand to grasp his neck and she kissed him, full in the mouth. When she pulled back to retreat, and flee from the embarrassment of her forward attraction, he stood and pressed his lips to her once more. They were warm, long kisses without the open-mouthed, sexual intensity of before, but they were satisfying in a way that Hermione needed them to be.

Just as she began to gain the courage to clutch at his collar, she heard a knock on the portrait. Quick as a dart, Snape pushed her towards his bedroom and sealed her inside, warding the door. It was so sudden that Hermione had to catch her breath from the shock. She had a sinking feeling that it was LaBeaux on the other side of the door, and her suspicions were confirmed when she heard his low drawl greet Severus,

"Sir, a message has come from the Dark Lord. I came at once."

She heard the tearing of parchment and a few silent moments passed as Snape read over the letter. He spoke to LaBeaux,

"I'll take her myself."

"But, sir, the letter came to me. I assumed that I would be the one," LaBeaux's weak whine irritated Hermione and she wondered fleetingly if she was the 'her' in the message.

"I outrank you, obviously, and the Dark Lord cannot afford to take chances on a bloodthirsty dog to do his work for him. You were wrong to assume. Besides, I thought you had your hands full?"

LaBeaux sighed,

"Yes, sir."

"Any progress?"

"I have been unable to separate him from the rest of the staff tonight, and when he's not with the staff, he's with the goddamn students."

"Pity," Snape's voice slid out of his mouth in a hush, "I thought this would be easy for you. The Dark Lord will not be pleased."

"It'll get done, trust me. Even if that little pup has gone missing."

"Fine, get out," Snape spat.

Hermione heard the portrait open and then click closed again, but it was still more than a minute before Snape opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

"What's happened?"

"LaBeaux came with a message from the Dark Lord. He knows you're working under me, he has seen LaBeaux's _interest_ in you, and he has instructed us to take you to Lucius's party under the guise of being a guest."

"And he thinks that I would say yes to LaBeaux?" Hermione scoffed.

"LaBeaux does, so that's what the Dark Lord saw in his thoughts. But, you will not be going with the American."

"I won't be going at all. I'm supposed to be fighting with Harry, you know, in the battle that we planned?" Her tone was sardonic.

"You'll be going with me."

Silence dropped like a heavy curtain, muffling Hermione's thoughts. She tried to clear her head, tried to envision all the implications. As his guest, Hermione would be seen as a traitor. Just because she was with Snape didn't mean any of those Death Eaters would treat her any differently. It was dangerous, to be sure. But, the implications for Snape were even more viscous. She didn't think that his friends would look to kindly on the fact that he was dating Potter's childhood schoolmate. Severus could see the wheels turning in her head,

"You see how this could be... _awkward_."

She nodded.

"So," he sighed, "you'll be under the _Imperius_."

"Sorry, what?"

"You will be under my control, so you will simply be seen as my captive, following orders, with no choice but to comply."

"I most certainly will not," Hermione crossed her arms, uncomfortable for the first time in his presence for as long as she could remember. She thought she should trust him, but was she really willing to let him cast an Unforgivable on her?

"I will not allow any harm to come to you. You know this."

"I suppose I don't have a choice really," the stakes were so high at this point, it was hard to avoid extreme measures. _Why start now?_ She rolled her eyes.

"Hermione..." His voice was softer now, and she felt him put his hand on her face, "I will not let them hurt you. This I swear."

Then, he dropped his hand and moved away, leaving her wondering what had been the catalyst for that brief window of compassion, then the abandonment.

"Will it hurt?"

He shook his head in decline.

"What about Remus?"

Snape flinched,

"What about him?"

"LaBeaux said he was trying to get to him..."

"He can take care of himself. As can I. Now, if we have no further business, I believe you were just leaving."

With his sudden repulsion, Hermione tried to stamp out any emotional response. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But, she spun a little too quickly and knocked over a small table by the door. She bent to pick up his things, apologizing under her breath. It wasn't until she was holding it in her hand that she noticed the moving photo of Snape and Lily Evans.

They were teenagers, probably sixth years, and this photo had been taken without their knowledge. They were behind the herbology gardens, laughing about something, and the look in Severus's eyes was one of intense joy. Lily's beauty was distracting, and that long swath of red hair made Hermione even more upset.

"Is this it then?" She asked, cryptically.

"What?" He was standing right behind her, gazing over her shoulder at the photo she held in her hands.

"You can't feel anything for me. For anyone, really. You're in love with her," Hermione whispered.

The room was still, a numb void that seemed to shrink the longer the silence between them lasted. She could hear his breathing, and though she did not turn to see his face, she guessed it was not a smile.

"She didn't love me," his response was equally muted, a reply with a strange sense of defeat.

"I'm sorry," Hermione turned and handed him the picture, and not feeling very sorry at this point.

"No," he threw the picture on the desk without ceremony, "this is not a picture of lovers. This is a picture of a stupid little boy. Lily _Potter_ taught me an important lesson that year. She single-handedly proved that anyone who believes in this _insipid_ idea of love is a damn fool. She revealed myself to me like a shining mirror - I was _pathetic_."

Hermione's patience was nearly gone,

"Yeah, you're right. You are pathetic. Pathetic enough to take care of her son even though he's a prat. Pathetic enough to undermine the entire plan of the Dark Lord. Even more pathetic are your attempts to save the people who hate you the most. You're basically worthless. Worthless enough for me to risk my life for you over and over and still _stupidly_ hang around when you decide to treat me like shit."

"Hermione -" he started.

"No, you're right. I was leaving. _Actually_ leaving this time," she dropped the crystal on the table and pulled on her cloak. Without another word, she was out the door.

Snape was left standing in his bedchambers. His blood felt like it was on fire, like if he didn't move, he would just stand there and burn to death.

Who was she to point out his failure with Lily? To be honest, Lily had been but a shadow in his mind for the past few years. She was certainly no longer a part of his motivation, and now that he had been a part of Hermione's world, he began to wonder if what he felt for Lily was ever love at all. Love was a contract, a pledge to which both parties had to commit. He had been alone in that boat. But, now, Hermione was trying to carry just as much of the burden and he hadn't even given her cause. She just saw him struggling and picked up half of the weight.

But, no longer. His sharp tongue and infinitesimal jealousy had made her drop the burden back on him. How long could a horse saddle a rider with nothing but a crop and a spur at every turn? Every time he saw her with that wolf he felt himself come out of his skin. He had known Remus for years, and though he'd never liked him, Snape had not wanted to see him dead. That was, until he put his paws all over Hermione. Always following her, touching her in public, inviting himself into her life like a stray dog.

And what could he do? Snape would never be able to walk her to a meeting. They would never dash into Hogsmead for the groceries or for dinner. He could never give her a family. The only thing he had given her was a broken body, a broken soul, and a load of broken promises.

Their act of love had been a promise. But, he had been quick to break that as well. All of his thoughts of not being good enough for her or wanting to keep her at arm's length had been self-serving and self-preserving. He knew his death would come at the end of a wand in the not-so-distant future, and he was trying to save her from that pain. He was trying to stop himself from loving another witch that could never love him.

He would never ask her to. To love a man with a death sentence, with a body full of rents and scars, and with a full nineteen years on her? Madness. Maybe the wolf was better after all. And, maybe he had just made sure of that.

He lifted the crystal from the table and put it in his pocket.

Hermione met Ginny the next afternoon in the Great Hall, trying on her best fake-smile and hoping her friend wouldn't notice.

"Hermione!" Ginny hugged her, "I'm so excited. How long has it been since you had a day off?"

"Too long," she replied.

"Harry and Remus are the the gates. Are you ready? I thought we could get lunch first."

 _When was the last time I have eaten?_ Hermione nodded,

"Yes, that's just fine."

Ginny smiled and gripped her hand, leading her out of the castle, talking about the ball, talking about Harry, talking about dancing with Harry at the ball...but all Hermione could hear was Snape.

She tried to stop thinking about their fight, and she tried to tell herself that she shouldn't care a lick for a man who didn't take half a second to appreciate her. She promised she wouldn't think about the _sofa_ , or about his mouth, or those warm hands...and really, those were easy to push away. It was his voice that was the problem. It was like a bell going off that you couldn't tell where it was coming from. She could hear his deep chuckle, his sigh, the way he said her name in that slow dark way. Like sinking beneath a hot pool, and like being crushed by a boulder all in the same breath.

"Hey, guys!" Ginny's shout shook Hermione from her thoughts.

Remus and Harry waved back and came to walk beside them. Without warning, one of Remus's heavy arms curled around her waist and pulled her to him.

"Brr!" He smiled, rows of white teeth just as blinding as the snow that had fallen the previous two nights, "Who would've thought we'd have such a chilly October?"

"Right?" Hermione agreed robotically, "I can't remember it ever being this cold."

"Thanks so much for letting me tag along," he continued, "I've been cooped up in the worst way this week."

Hermione could guess which week that was.

Ginny responded,

"Of course! I'm just glad you're keeping Harry company. He just hates finding dress robes."

"It's the shoes that I can't stand," Harry chuckled.

They shared laugh. Hermione forgot to join in, but her friends didn't notice.

Ginny and Harry locked arms and moved ahead of them for a pace, the path to Hogsmead much more narrow as they travelled farther away from the castle.

Remus grinned, nodding towards the pair,

"They're just like Lily and James. It's uncanny! What a wonderful pair."

"Yeah. She really cares about him," Hermione nodded.

"And he her."

Hermione wasn't sure if that was a metaphor or not, but before she could decide, she felt Remus pull her in just a bit closer and plant a soft kiss on her forehead.

She gave him a painted-on smile, trying to have a good time. Here he was, trying to make her happy and show her that he cared for her, and all she could do was feel intensely awkward. Was this what Snape felt like around her? Some dumb girl-child trying to make him love her? She tried to let it go, but she just felt so stupid.

The rest of the walk to Hogsmead was uneventful. Remus spoke about Sirius and about the Order's plans. Hermione nodded and tried to stay interested. But, the devil on her shoulder reminded her that Snape would be the one at risk, no matter what the plan was.

They sat through lunch, and Hermione tried to eat. Only when the conversation moved to her did she seem to have her mouth full of food. She scolded herself,

 _I can't use these potatoes as a bloody shield all day, now can I?_

Then, it was the dresses. Everything looked dull and cheap to her. Ginny tried on every single silver colored gown in the shop, some of them twice, and for all of her sparkle, Hermione only cared for the plain and simple.

 _Just pick something, and get it over with._

She tried on a red one that Ginny had chosen, but the dress looked like it was wearing Hermione, not the other way around. Everything else was just the same.

 _Too yellow. Too frilly. Too long. Too oh-hey-you-gained-three-stone-overnight! Are those really peacock feathers?_

But, every time she stepped out of the changing curtain, Remus's face looked more and more pleased.

Eventually, she was at the bottom of the pile and all that was left was a black one. It wasn't metallic, or lace - just dark and plain. It ran all the way to the floor, the sleeves were at the crook of her elbow, but the neckline was deep and the back was completely open. Sure, it tucked in at her waist, and the silk was matte and classy, but the only thing Hermione could see were her collarbones and that particular runic scar.

 _Yeah. Let's wear this. Show everyone that I'm the type of idiot who splits her soul up for fun._

Hermione wondered fleetingly if it still counted as sarcasm if she said it to herself. In a flash, she cast a charm over it, and all that was left was a long plunge of skin.

 _Whatever._

"What do you think?" She stepped out and gazed at her friends' faces.

Harry was trying not to look, but his gaze never left her chest - _prat_.

Ginny squealed in delight, commenting on how nice it would look with a good necklace.

Remus's face was the hardest to read. He seemed to be confused or concerned, but his eyes traced her whole form in a quick, darting motion. Perhaps he was looking for the scar?

"Remus? Yea or nay?" Hermione called his attention and moved her thumb up and down, signaling for a vote.

He smiled, broken from his trance,

"Yea, definitely, yea."

"Great. I'll box this one up then," the clerk stepped in, trying to be helpful.

"Thanks," Hermione said, and went to change back into her jeans.

She waited for Ginny to choose between two of the 'best dresses ever,' and finally went to check out at the counter. Hermione paid her galleons before Remus could get any ideas, since he had already bought her lunch. But, she was helpless at his insistence on carrying her bags.

The walk back was colder than she had thought it would be, and with Ginny and Harry purposefully lagging behind, she was left to contend with Remus's comments.

"The dress is really lovely," he told her.

"Thanks. I'm glad you think so."

"I couldn't help but notice that your scar was missing," he fished.

"I charmed it. I don't want anyone asking about it," she replied maybe a little too curtly.

"Oh, sorry," he backtracked.

She shook her head and smiled,

"It's not a big deal."

"I found a way to fix it, Hermione," he grasped her hand, weaving his fingers between hers.

She looked at her hand, now trapped in his, and asked how that could work.

"Well, if you break the rune with another one on top of it, the first curse is broken. Then, you won't be bound to that other soul."

"But, I will be bound to another one?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he stopped her in the middle of the path, just outside of the castle gate, "But, if you need me, I am more than willing to perform the curse with you. You'll be free of whoever is doing this to you. I promise I won't use its power."

"Use it?" She was suddenly confused.

"Well, the research that Sirius found says that one partner could escape death or injury by keeping the other one around, using them as a shield from spells and that sort of thing," he put his hands on her neck, "Is that what's happened? Is it Malfoy?"

"What? No, no really, Remus. I'm fine. I'm handling it."

"You really are so brave," he beamed down at her, running a hand through her hair.

Before she could move, his mouth was on hers, and she stepped away like she had been burned.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay, really. I'm just...just so tired. I could really use a good night's sleep," she smiled, hoping she could just brush it off.

"Of course. Maybe I can give you a raincheck for that drink?" His voice was painfully hopeful.

"Of course! Yes," she smiled and nodded, "certainly. Good night, Remus."

He bent to kiss her cheek,

"Good night."

He handed her the bags and went off to the Order Headquarters, waving her goodbye.

Once she made it back to her rooms, she was numb and her body felt so empty. She couldn't be happy or sad or mad, she was just in a state of nothingness. When she saw her portal ajar, she even thought to herself sarcastically, _Good. Maybe they're here to kill me._

She didn't even pull her wand. Whatever was in here was certainly going to have to either kill her now or take her to Voldemort, because she really didn't have it in her tonight.

Hermione nudged the door open all the way and gazed into the sitting room. The hearth was burning, and Ashes was in the embers, squawking, with dust scattered around his bowl. She turned to the sofa, and no one was on it. It wasn't until she saw him stumble that she noticed Severus Snape kneeling in her den, clutching his neck and trying to stop his blood from pouring out onto the floor.


	14. Six Impossible Things

**Terribly sorry about the cliffy ;) Promise I've got a few chapters coming up that will make it all better.**

Chapter Fourteen: _Six Impossible Things_

Hermione slammed the portal behind her and knelt beside Severus with her wand in hand.

 _Stop the bleeding, bloody fucking hell, just stop the bleeding._

Between every spell, Hermione stitched together a prayer. After a few moments, his neck began to close, but only when she put her hand on his cheek. She held his head in her lap, watching the new skin fold over the wound, half-expecting it to rupture again. After lifting him up, she dug around in her pockets for a replenishment potion, anything to get his strength up again. She only had one left.

"Here, c'mon. You can do it. Easy…" she tilted the vial down his throat.

He writhed in agony, and Hermione was sure that the burning of the healing hurt worse than the cut itself.

"You're okay, you're gonna be okay. It's okay," she chanted, rubbing his forehead and smoothing the hair away from his face.

As she touched more of his skin, her own throat began to burn. It was a tingle at first, but it rose to an intense sting, making her cough uncontrollably. The burning sensation was like she had swallowed fire, and she felt it flare every time she breathed. She conjured water for them both and waited for the spells to do their job.

Ashes's noise had come to a halt, and he hopped over to hug himself under her earlobe. She put out a finger for him and softly pet his head. Hermione leaned back and waited for Snape to come around.

After a good twenty minutes, his eyes fluttered open and he let out a deep cough. She moved the goblet of water to his lips and watched him drink from it.

"What happened?" She asked, hoarsely.

"Werewolves," was his only reply.

"Remus did this to you?"

He nodded.

"How?"

He coughed. Every time he tried to speak, only wisps of sound came out.

"C'mon," she lifted his body off the ground, now stained with a pool of his blood.

She moved him into her bedroom, pulling off their soaked robes, casting the world's laziest _Tergeo_ over them both, and shoving him into bed, stark naked. Hermione ignored the shocked look on his face and explained it away in her now-ruined voice,

"The more we touch, the faster this will go. So, scoot over."

She climbed into bed with him and spread her form along his warm body. She also decided to ignore any other reactions he was having at the moment. But, she could not ignore the fact that he had wrapped his arms around her and covered her up with the duvet.

They slept like this for an hour. Hermione set an alarm on her muggle watch, and when it went off, she tentatively tested her voice box.

"Erm, hmm, uhmm," she cleared her throat and hummed a bit. No pain.

"Severus," she prodded him, "Wake up."

His black eyes snapped open and looked into hers. He propped himself up on one arm and moved to sit up in the bed. She watched as he registered their state of undress once more. She pulled the blankets around her chest.

"So, tell me what happened."

He cleared his throat, testing the pain as well,

"It was my fault. I saw you with him, at the gate."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, trying to hold a headache at bay with the tips of her fingers.

He continued,

"I followed him, but LaBeaux was waiting for him too. They shifted before I could move. I don't think they even noticed me. But, Remus's back paw struck me squarely in the throat, and now I'm here."

"Yes, but why are you _here_? Don't you usually bleed to death in your own quarters?"

It was silent for a while until he spoke again,

"I wanted to see you, one last time. I didn't think you could save me. Those spells shouldn't have held against a werewolf injury."

"They didn't. But, this one did," she thumbed her scar, "I assume that you have no idea if Remus is alive or not."

"No," he didn't need to whisper any longer, but that was the only sound that came out.

"Well, I suppose we'll find out tomorrow, won't we?"

"You're not going down there?" Severus asked.

"And what? Tell him that a little birdy told me that he was in trouble? How do I explain that? No, I'll send Ashes to Dumbledore. Let him clean up a mess for a change."

She grabbed him from his bedside bowl, tied a quick note to Ashes and gave him a treat,

"Quick as you can, my dear."

The bird was gone in a flash of orange and gold embers.

Hermione laid back down, still without the will to carry on this dance.

"Thank you for saving my life," he told her.

She sighed,

"You can stop thanking me. I've already got the scar. It's permanent. If you keep thanking me, we'll be here until Christmas - even though we probably won't be here until Christmas. We'll be dead."

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I hurt you and -"

"What is the bloody point, Severus?" She turned to face him in bed, "You're sorry, I'm sorry, we're all _sorry_. It doesn't matter, and I just don't care. I don't care about Harry, I don't care about Remus, I don't care about Albus or Voldemort or Poppy or _anyone_. I can't. I'm tired. I keep caring just like I keep bleeding. Eventually, you just run out. And right now, I'm out. Can't you see why? Or do you just not want to be bothered with it?"

"No," he shook his head.

"I don't want you to sit here and tell me how thankful you are or how sorry you are. That's not what I need from you. I gave myself to you - in more than one capacity - and I needed you to give back. I just needed you to see what I was doing and not try to cover it up with some sort of sorry excuse. And you know what else?" She paused and looked at him. He just sat there, staring at her neck, not moving an inch.

She continued,

"I don't care if you don't love me. It doesn't matter, because I can see it now. Remus pushed himself on me at the gate and I was physically drained! And this is a good-looking bloke, with a kind heart and _never_ a nasty word to me. His thank you's are a work of art. But, still I was sick with guilt. I can't love him. I never will. So, don't sit there and feel sorry for me, because you shouldn't. But -" she pushed at the tears that had started to fall away from her eyes, "Don't give me your sorry's and your regrets. You wanted this to be just business? You got it."

He was more static than a statue. She flipped over to give him her back and dropped her voice in a mocking tone,

"Now, if we have no _further_ business, I think you were just leaving. So, _get out._ "

"No," he moved his gaze to stare right at her as she turned on him.

"Is that the only word you know?"

"No."

"Then what? What else could I possibly give you, Severus?"

"I love you."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Severus, you don't have to -" She sat up and meant to leave the bed behind, but his hand shot out and grabbed her arm, none too gently, and the look in his eye had turned rabid,

"I. Love. You."

Tears were coursing down her cheeks in salty ruts. She couldn't stop them, and she shuddered from the exhaustion. He went on,

"I love you, and I have been loving you...this _entire_ time. I love you," he said it like a mantra, over and over in the near-inaudible darkness of his tone.

"Why?" Her own voice betrayed her, even through her sobs.

"You are the only one who could ever be my equal, or my better. You are stronger than me, you are brighter than me, you give more of yourself in a single night than I ever could in a lifetime, and you make me want to be a better man."

She looked down and watched as her hand outlined his thick jaw, and she whispered in return,

"There are no better men."

His face collapsed onto hers and he began to fiercely kiss her tears away. He pulled her close to him and held her as tightly as he could. In a soft whisper, he told her,

"You make me want to _live_ again."

* * *

The next morning, Hermione had no idea what time it was. There was a storm outside dark enough to keep a shroud of grey light over the castle. The world seemed monotone and flat, as if it had been drained and dried like pressed petals in a book. The grounds were wet, and what had been green in the summer was now the hue of golden hay. She glanced over at Severus, sound asleep next to her, and it made her want to curl back up against him. Underneath that big, torn, tattooed arm, she could slip close to his chest, enveloped in that rough exterior shell. But, she put her feet on the cold floor and went to look for Ashes. If Dumbledore had found Remus, maybe he was able to get him back to the castle in one piece.

A tiny response was tied to Ashes' leg. She opened it,

 _Hermione,_

 _Remus is alive. But, please let our friend know that LaBeaux has fled the castle._

 _Albus_

Cryptic and dull all at the same time. She could guess who Dumbledore was referring to. Hermione tried not to harbor any resentment, but the Headmaster's constant chess game with Voldemort was really annoying, especially since she cared about some of the pieces on the board. She felt like a pawn sometimes, never particularly important, and always the first to get hurt. The go-between. But, as she stared at the broken knight in her bed, she thought that the pawns might have gotten off easy.

"Severus," she ran a hand through his black hair.

He stirred. Lifting himself off the bed, he swung his legs off the edge to touch the floor. He stood, all his height and broad shoulders looking as if a huge weight had been lifted off of him. Snape was pleased to find Hermione smiling up at him, and he knew that her love was the best thing that would ever happen to him in his short life.

He reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her into the air. She put her legs around him as he carried her to the sofa. He sat, landing her in his lap and began to kiss her.

"Severus," she managed between kisses.

She received only a groan for a reply.

"We got a letter," she said.

He pulled his face away from her,

"From whom?"

He sounded annoyed, maybe even a little offended that someone would interrupt their time together.

"Albus. He said that Remus is alive, but LaBeaux went off. Licking his wounds with the Dark Lord perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll find out," he left her on the sofa.

Snape pulled on his slacks and laced up his thick boots. He tucked in his white shirt and buttoned it all the way to the neck, folding his coat collar just so. He charmed the buttons of his long cloak to fasten themselves, and tied his hair back with a worn leather strip. Nearly finished, he plucked at the sleeves of the jacket, one wrist at a time, straight as an arrow.

"While I'm gone, talk to the hound. See if he knows where LaBeaux ran off to. I'll go to Lucius. It's the first place I usually look for things that are...missing."

"Right," Hermione replied, ready for any other instructions.

"Don't forget," he smiled cheekily, "tomorrow night is the _ball."_

"Oh, no," she had forgotten.

"Oh, yes," he laughed at her, "I suppose you bought something to wear."

She nodded.

"What color?"

She looked at him suspiciously,

"Black. Nothing special."

He pocketed his wand and headed for the door. Just before he opened the portal, he reached in his coat pocket.

"Here," he handed her the crystal necklace, "you forgot this."

She smiled,

"Thanks."

He kissed her in earnest,

"See you soon."

He clicked the door closed behind him.

* * *

Outside the mansion, Severus straightened his robes and braced himself for Malfoy's chaotic demeanor. Lucius was the one who had brought him to the Dark Lord, and the entire community of Death Eaters and their supporters knew about their friendship. It was an alliance that had saved each of them more than once. Those who did not fear Snape feared Malfoy, and the other way around. Severus was almost a member of the family.

He was not empty handed. When he had left Hermione, he went to grab one of his oldest bottles of firewhiskey as a gift. If anything made Lucius happy, it was expensive booze. Snape wasn't even sure Lucius drank it, but his old friend had a soft spot for pretty, valuable things.

The guards let him through the gate and into the main parlour of the mansion. But, all he could think about was Hermione. It felt good to finally admit it out loud. _I love her_. Admitting it to oneself was good, but sharing those budding emotions was not something Severus was used to. He looked forward to seeing how the seed they had planted would grow in the coming days.

It was a few minutes before Lucius descended the tall, ebony staircase whose banisters were lined with intricate silver and whose runner was the darkest emerald green. The dark woods of Malfoy Manor, with its high ceilings and great paned windows, added to the shocking beauty of the space. But, unlike other parts of the house, this was no brooding dungeon. Fresh flowers sat nicely on his ornate tables, some mail was left on a nearby desk. It looked like a house, a very expensive house, but still a home.

Lucius himself was also quite imposing. Tall and slender, like his ornate banisters, Mr. Malfoy was always able to make an impression. But, he wasn't in robes this evening. He wore Muggle slacks and a white collared shirt. The casual outfit probably cost more than Dumbledore made in a month, but Snape knew Lucius's closet housed more extravagant articles than this. Lucius was...comfy.

"Severus! This is a surprise. When the guards told me who was at the gate, I thought something might be amiss," Lucius's tone was that of concern.

Snape shook his friend's hand warmly, the whiskey tucked in the crook of his left arm. He smiled slightly to dismiss the alarm,

"No, my friend, there is nothing amiss, at least not more than usual."

They shared a laugh.

"I've come seeking a wolf, and to deliver this bottle of firewhiskey to its rightful owner," Snape purred.

Lucius was distracted by the honey gold bottle,

"I know this mark. This is from Karkaroff's famous stores. How on earth did you get it? I thought they burned that traitor's castle to the ground."

"Who do you think does the burning?" Snape let out a sly grin, "Besides, I was owed a favor. But, I rarely have time for a glass these days, and a vintage like this deserves a good home. Draco should spend his Mark day knowing what a real whiskey is supposed to taste like."

"We'll open it at the party. This was quite thoughtful of you. Now, you must join me for dinner, and I won't take no for an answer, Severus. Let's go see if we can find your lost dog."

As they were seated in the grand dining hall, Lucius sent three owls and two of his house elves to look for LaBeaux.

"The Dark Lord can only tolerate so much failure. Honestly, does he think he can hide from his shame?" Lucius oozed.

"He will be brought to heel. You and I will make sure of it. Merlin knows our Lord has forgiveness for you and your... _tastes_ , but at least you can follow a simple edict."

Lucius smiled knowingly at Snape's comment,

"You ought to join me sometime, Severus. For the life of me, I cannot figure out how to get you to have a little fun. What's the point of power if you do not wield it every now and then?"

Snape brought up the battle plans casually. They laughed at Potter's stupidity. They chatted over two more courses, meticulously and elegantly prepared, and were only interrupted by the return of one house elf.

"Ah, Frinky. What news?"

The house elf lay prostrate in front of its master. Frinky replied,

"Lord Master Malfoy, Frinky has returned with news of the missing one. He hides in the dark woods, near the abandoned coven holdfast."

"The old safe house?" Snape asked.

Lucius replied, dismissing Frinky with a disgusted wave,

"Indeed. After Potter and his friends commandeered it for their pitiful Order, the Dark Lord decided to abandon it, tainted as it was."

Snape knew, of course, but Lucius liked to feel in-the-know.

"I'll go at once. The Dark Lord will learn of your help in his capture, dear friend. Thank you so much for your assistance."

"There is no need for gratitude when loyalty is its own reward," Lucius shook Snape's hand warmly.

Severus could tell by the look on Malfoy's face that the gratitude did not go amiss.

* * *

In the woods, Severus could hear the wolf's moans carry through the trees. What an idiot he was. Voldemort would have Snape kill him, he was sure, but the American had been sent to dispose of Lupin, as well as thwart Potter's plans for the order, and had failed, that was that. Snape was anything if not the clean up crew.

"LaBeaux," Snape found the injured man huddled against the stones of the run down cottage.

Remus had gotten the better of him, and even though Severus was not a fan of any shifters at the moment, he did take a little pride in knowing that the beauty-product potions "master" was no match for trusty Lupin.

"Snape, you have to help me. I have to finish the job. I can do it. There's still time," Remy was bleeding down his arms, and Snape was careful not to touch any of it as he lifted him to his feet.

"Time's up," Severus whispered and apparated them to the Death Eater sanctuary.

As their bodies hit the cold floor of the church, Severus sank to his knees. He would have put his forehead to the ground if he wasn't gripping the wolf with his hand. In the other fist, Snape held out his wand, a symbol of offering to the Dark Lord. Very few Death Eaters followed this custom anymore, but that was one of the reasons Snape had climbed so high so quickly. Voldemort loved tradition and flattery, so Snape never held back.

It was silent in the grand cathedral hall for a few moments. Snape could picture in his mind where the Dark Lord sat. He had put a throne where the broken pulpit used to rest, and the large Gothic architecture served to frame him in a macabre picture of doom. Dramatic.

A low hiss broke the oppressive silence,

"Severussss. You have brought me a gift."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape did not raise his eyes.

"What is this gift, Loyal One?"

"My Lord, this is Remington LaBeaux, the werewolf who wanted entry into your outer coven."

A dark chuckle echoed through the empty chapel,

"And has he succeeded in his quest?"

A cry of anguish came out of Remy's mouth. Snape replied,

"No, my Lord."

"Mmm," Voldemort mused, "what do we do with failures, Severus?"

"I will carry out your will, my Lord."

Snape still had not looked up, but he could feel Voldemort step closer to them. Without warning, Voldemort kicked the wolf away from Severus violently. He didn't dare lift his gaze, not even to watch the carnage. Snape didn't budge a muscle until the Dark Lord offered his ring to kiss and lifted him to his feet with a cold, bony hand. LaBeaux's screams were annoying,

"Don't kill me, please! It's him. He's messing up all my assignments! Snape wants the mudblood bitch for himself!"

At the sudden accusation, Severus knew instinctively what would happen. Voldemort would reach into his mind and find what Snape presented as the truth. The Dark Lord still knew nothing of his Legimency, and further still, he did not know that Snape was better at it than he was.

So, as if on auto-pilot, Snape fed Voldemort the key scenes:

His conversation with LaBeaux

"That _mudblood_ is none of your business. She is an explicit project for the Dark Lord, and therefore she is _my_ property, _my_ responsibility…"

Hermione screamed in his mind,

"I don't care if you don't love me…"

He showed the moment where he had shoved her against the wall, his hands around her neck. Showed the Dark Lord how she cowered in fear of his Death Eater's mask. He even let glimpses of their drunken sex slip through, and by the time the Dark Lord left his mind, Hermione looked like a traitorous, lust-filled minion. Severus did not show the pain that he wanted to feel for betraying her trust. He did not allow himself to feel guilty. Instead, he let his pride and rage pour out. But, the Dark Lord would never know that it was his pride in Hermione that he was actually feeling.

Voldemort reached out to brush Snape's cheek,

"Loyal One. How dare this wolf question your allegiance? Please, take your revenge. That is my gift to you."

"Thank you, my Lord. Your will shall be done."

Snape fixed a shark-like gaze to the bleeding scum writhing on the floor. He palmed his wand and, without the slightest hesitation, bent to the ground and whispered,

" _Sectum Sempra_."

The Dark Lord laughed with a sick delight as Remington's wails echoed through the church,

"Oh, Severus, you know that's one of my favorites. Lucius has been trying for years to find something just as exciting, but alas, he's like a hammer to a canvas," Voldemort watched as Remy's body was sliced into little ribbons by Snape's darkest magic, "You are a true artist."

Severus gave him a deep bow,

"You honor me, my Lord."

"Now, about this little mudblood whore," Voldemort walked beside Severus on his way to the balcony overlook. Nagini trailed behind, hissing as she passed the body of the now-dead wolf.

"She is.. _insistent_ , my Lord. I know you're aware that I am physically repulsed by her kind," Snape shuddered in disgust.

Voldemort chuckled,

"Much to Lucius's dismay. He wanted you to follow his path of debauchery so badly."

"He does not understand the power of the blood, my Lord. Purity is a blessing," for a moment, Severus thought he had spoken out of turn, but the Dark Lord nodded.

"Yes, Lucius does not know the price of purity as we know it, Loyal One. But, I hope you will nourish this relationship. She may be unclean, but if Potter's lifelong friend can betray him, then he will fall that much easier when his time comes."

"I will do as you command, my Lord."

"You are dismissed, Severus."

"As you wish, my Lord."

With a deep bow, Snape apparated out of the cathedral and back to his quarters.

After they had eaten dinner, and after he had admitted that LaBeaux's death was his own doing, they decided to stay cooped up. She said she didn't care what he had done, but he could see that death upset her, and that he was the instrument was at least a little disturbing. But, now, Hermione lay curled up on the floor, a mountain of pillows around her and one of Severus' oldest tomes stretched across her lap. She was snoring lightly, and for a moment, Snape couldn't help but want to put this exact moment in his pensive. His lioness was a sight to behold. Her beautiful mind always sharpening itself like a shining rapier, her love and affection was the antithesis to his entire existence. He was most certainly in love with her, and he never wanted her to leave his side. He'd die for her.

Carefully, he lifted her to his bed chamber and lay her beside him. As she settled in, she nudged his arm up and rested her head on his chest. Moments of doubt fluttered into his mind. She can withstand one killing, but what about fifty? What if it's Muggles? Children? Could she remain the sheath to a very bloody sword? He fell asleep with his doubt fresh on his mind, and he made a silent vow to end this war, one way or another. Hermione was his conscience now. Her world should be better, and he would make it so.


	15. Fabulous Monsters

Chapter Fifteen: _Fabulous Monsters_

The night of the ball was upon them, and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at the students' excited planning and gossiping about who would wear what, or who would dance with whom. It made her a little sad knowing that she and her friends had never had that innocent time. From the very start, they had been warriors - not children. She also wondered fleetingly if Snape could dance. She was certain he could. A wealthy upbringing and countless parties with posh Death Eater families lead to at least some joyous motion, surely. Hermione let herself wonder what he would think of her dress.

She hoped he liked it. Letting her mind wander as she drew a hot bath, Hermione hoped he would see the large swath of skin where the gown opened up in the back, her shoulder blades fully exposed. He would see the deep, v-shaped plunge in the front, almost past her sternum, and even though the scar would be charmed away, he would know that she was secretly showing it off to the entire castle. It was a mark of pride - not one of fear or pain. She wanted him to know that he was not a mistake.

Slowly, she sank into the basin and washed her hair with her usual vanilla shampoo. It tingled her scalp, and just for a moment, she applied it to her soft curls between her thighs. Hermione had no intention of lingering, but the tingles changed her mind. She carefully edged a finger into her folds and pressed down a little more firmly. It was a few seconds before her body responded, but she felt the familiar twitch of muscles as she made long strokes across the hood of her clit. Usually she didn't have any imagery to work with, and she always wanted to rush. But, now that Severus had done those... _wonderful_ things, her mind flung her back to their incredible sex.

She remembered how he had flattened his tongue against her wet lips and lapped up her wetness with big, long licks. His fingers twisted in and out of her pulsing sheath as he sucked at her soft skin. In his fierce hunger, he moved her hips closer to him, grabbing her ass and burying his face even deeper into her pussy - as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Severus would look up at her every now and then, his hooded eyes studying her every shake and shudder - revelling in her beautiful agony. When he could no longer stand it, he would kiss her full on the mouth, making her taste her own musky gleam, spreading it across her face and neck with his lustful snogging.

Hermione knew that, at this point, there was no going back. He had her in his sights, and only a true protest would make him halt his advances. Snape gripped her legs, pushing them apart and opening her up. The cool air rushed across her wet pussy and she felt his thick head press into her hole. The memory of that moment of tension was enough to push Hermione over the edge as she fucked herself with her fingers. She came with a low gasp, and her body closed in, legs quivering with every wave of pleasure.

She carefully removed her hand and lay in the water for a while, letting her eyes close and basking in her high. The whole room looked more inviting now. Just thinking about him made the experience much more powerful than her usual routine. Hermione smiled slyly as she thought how nice it would be now that she had such lovely material. _I could get used to coming like this_ , she mused.

Having indulged for long enough, she towelled off and began to dress. She fed Ashes and had one last look in the long mirror behind her portrait door. The long black gown hit the floor and drug behind her as she moved across the room, and as she turned, she briefly admired the deep plunge down the back, equally matched in the front. Hermione charmed her scar and slid Snape's necklace over her head. The chain hung into the v-shaped opening, resting on her sternum, and she hoped it would be enough to make the dress a little more glamorous. Her new flats creaked a bit as she tried to break them in. She had charmed her hair as well. It sat perched in a big bun, exposing her neck and complementing her soft sloping shoulders. Dark oxblood lipstick and smoky eyes were as fancy as Hermione had ever done, and she secretly thanked Ginny for always recommending beauty tips over the years.

It was hard for her to focus. She was nervous, and she missed her comfy, practical tee shirts already. But, she had no choice - _so I guess I should make the most of it and just try to have fun_ , she thought to herself.

"Well, I guess that's it then. See you soon, Ashes," she blew him a kiss and grabbed her clutch, locking her door behind her.

As she made her way to the Great Hall, Hermione hoped that she would run into Snape. A big part of her wanted to share their first formal meeting in private. But, she mused, he was probably on time - and not twenty minutes late like she was, thanks to her bathing activities. She could hear the din before she went up stairs, and by the time she made it to the heavy wooden gates of the hall, the music and general commotion was nearly deafening. It was packed full since both the Hogwarts students and Salem students were in attendance. She saw some familiar faces, but one flash of red hair in the distance caught her eye. She tried to wave Ginny down, but all she saw was her back. Moving through the crowd wasn't easy, and by the time Hermione was able to tap her friend's shoulder, Dumbledore stopped the music and began to speak,

"Greetings and salutations to you all on this merry night. With All Hallows Eve just around the corner, I feel that our unity and friendship is all the more important. Carry on!"

 _Way to be unnecessarily cryptic...again._ Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ginny shouted into Hermione's ear,

"Hey! You look great! Love that bun."

"And you look as gorgeous as ever," Hermione yelled a reply over the music, "Hey, have you seen Professor Snape?"

Ginny made a face,

"No. Why?"

"Uh, I just need to check in. We're brewing an... overnight potion for the infirmary."

"Oh. Well I'll - oh, wait! There, in the corner. Almost missed him. Creepy bat."

"Thanks. Be right back," Hermione struggled back into the writhing crowd of students - who were dancing entirely too close - and over to Snape's hiding spot.

As she moved, he watched her. His eyes on her skin were like a hot brand. Her scar tissue began to burn and she fought the urge to run to him.

He couldn't believe his luck. She was the most beautiful being in the room, in the world - and he had been with Veelas. She could charm the entire castle if she wanted, like a siren, a goddess in human skin. He wanted to kiss those full, soft lips and smear that dark lipstick down her neck. He wanted it to cover his chin and jaw. Snape could imagine the blood-red stains around the base of his cock, and his fingers yearned to rip that flawless hair free and make it wild again. The plunge of her gown was too much. The fact that Lupin had had the pleasure of seeing her in this made Snape's heart harden with vitreous envy. He studied her exposed flesh like an artist studies a blank canvas - just imagining all the things he could do to it. Snape felt a rush in his chest when he saw the necklace, pleased that she had worn it. Even more pleased that she was showcasing her scar to him, in front of all these people - even if it was charmed. As she turned to adjust her train, he saw the empty expanse of her back and trembled slightly. _Merlin save me._

"Madam Granger," his deep voice carried without him needing to shout, "You clean up nicely."

"As do you, Professor. Can I tell you a secret?" She lowered her voice and lifted her mouth to his ear, letting her breath warm the side of his neck.

She heard a low growl,

"Yes..."

"I'm not wearing anything underneath."

"Witch," he playfully cursed her with a quiet whisper.

They stood side by side for a few minutes, watching the crowd, finding excuses to lean across the other, pressing their bodies together a little more than needed to let people pass them in the throng. Then, like some intrusive albatross, Dumbledore was up again.

"Now, now, I promise no more announcements," he chuckled.

Hermione whispered to Snape,

"Is he drunk?"

Snape gave her a ghost of a smile. Dumbledore continued,

"You lot have had your fun. It's time for the faculty dance! Minerva, will you give me the pleasure? Let's show them how it's done, shall we?"

He reached out for McGonagall's arm and half fluttered, half waved at the band with his free hand. The band haltingly responded with a slow waltz. If the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye got any brighter, Hermione was afraid it would burn right out of his skull.

 _He's definitely drunk._

Snape snapped her away from her thoughts as he gently bent to her and offered his open palm,

"Will you do me the honor?"

She took his hand and let him lead her onto the floor. The students' previously boisterous noise had quieted to whispers and soft giggles. The first minute or two of the dance was uneventful. The orchestra hummed gently, its notes soft and slow. Snape slid around the dance floor like it was made of air, lifting her, spinning her tastefully and elegantly without being flashy. But, then, the tempo changed, and the quiet dance became a loud, sultry version of its old self.

Without letting a single emotion betray his face, Snape picked up the pace and matched the rhythm like a pro. His movements were quick and powerful, he dipped her low to the ground with one arm, making the more difficult motions look lazy and languid. He didn't struggle or miss a step a single time. Hermione had little control over her own movements and she simply gave in to his lead. It wasn't long before the other partners were too busy watching Snape to be dancing themselves and the floor had cleared. Some students got closer, the ones in back pushing to get a look at the drama.

Snape didn't seem to notice. He kept his gaze trained on Hermione's face, pulling her across the floor and spinning her into his body, their steps in sync. At the crescendo of the song, Snape took both her wrists, pulling her body against his and then letting her gracefully fall as the audience gasped at the suddenness of his motions - and at the high likelihood of Hermione crashing into the stone floor. She could feel the coolness of the marble radiate against her cheek just before Snape grabbed her hand and pulled her back up. He bowed low in front of her as the song came to a sharp close.

She was panting, but she managed to give him a polite curtsey as the crowd erupted into applause. It wasn't long before the loud thumping of youthful music filled the room again, and as they were surrounded on all sides, Snape carefully led her out of the hall and into the shadowy side corridor.

It was still noisy out there, but the sound was muffled by the big stone columns and Hermione could finally catch her breath.

"Well," she chuckled, "that answers my next question."

He raised a black eyebrow at her in question.

"You can certainly dance."

He smiled, a real one this time now that they were alone,

"Yes. I'm not sure who taught me how, but I've always enjoyed a good dance."

"Thought you'd hate having all those eyes on you."

"Well, I considered the fact that we'd need some proof of our attendance. Now, even if we leave early, Albus can't say we didn't give it our all."

Hermione gave him a big smile,

"I'm parched. Are you ready to go back in there?"

"Almost," he whispered and slid a warm hand against her neck, pulling her mouth toward his and slowly sinking his tongue between her lips.

She moaned from the surprising softness of his kiss and the heat of his touch. She backed away reluctantly,

"Quick. Let's get back before we make a mistake."

"Yes. I am not quite sure what I was thinking, _kissing_ you... in the open."

"Well, it's not exactly public if there aren't any people, I guess."

"Hermione," his tone was one of warning, "Just because a castle is made of stone doesn't mean it cannot see or _hear_ \- or allow others to do the same. Tell me, when you and Potter roamed these halls, did you feel like to castle was... helping?"

Hermione nodded. Snape continued,

"Then, who do you think helped Tom Riddle - a boy, without friends, all alone in this big, empty, school? A boy who somehow managed to create _four horcruxes_ during his time here."

Instinctively Hermione looked over her shoulder and into the vacant corridor. She felt a little betrayed. They had always thought the castle was on their side, but now she felt as if it made no judgements of good or evil - simply playing favorites to whoever held the power.

"Come," Snape led her into the rear entrance.

They walked behind Dumbledore's pulpit, with a clear view of the dancing, but a barrier of faculty tables shielded them from the students. The headmaster sat with Minerva and Professor Sprout, drinking more butter beer and laughing together. Snape poured some beer into a glass for Hermione and left to break up a pair of snogging fifth years who thought they'd hide in the corner.

Hermione sat, aching to get out of her dress and into her waiting bed. She watched as the couples joined together for a slow song, spotting Ginny with a boy she didn't recognize - clearly a classmate. She let her gaze wander to the main door, half expecting someone to burst through. Had they ever been to an uneventful gathering? Hermione couldn't recall. She turned back to where Severus had been standing and saw that he was talking with Lupin. She went to join them as they ducked into the corridor where she had been with Snape just moments before.

"I'm telling you, they're here on the grounds. I can smell them. There's nothing like it," Lupin tried to convince Snape.

"I'm telling _you_ that the only wizard capable of sending a pack of dementors here is Nickolai Virahslav, and why would he?"

Hermione interrupted,

"Virahslav? The Russian headmaster?"

Snape nodded,

"His position in the Coven is only a title. It's less of a school and more of an army training facility. He's as dark as they come, but his distaste for Death Eaters puts him in opposition with the Dark Lord."

Lupin hadn't been able to take his eyes off Hermione since she had arrived. He finally averted his gaze and gave Severus a look,

"Perhaps the enemy of our enemy has come for a chat?"

Snape perked up,

"Tell Albus."

But, it was too late. The doors to the Great Hall slammed open with a roar. The music stopped and the floor cleared. Everyone turned to stare at Nickolai Virahslav and twenty other Russian wizards. Their robes were grey, not black, and there were no hoods but in their place where high, square collars. The sleeves were tight, and the bottom of the hem reached just past their knees. If wizards could wear battle armor, this was how Hermione would imagine it. They looked physically capable of movement and aggression - none of the elegance, all of the power.

The Hall was silent now, soft whispers dying out, replaced by heavy anticipation.

Dumbledore was the first to break the lull. He slowly stood and placed his hands on the table in front of him, taking an aggressive stance. His voiced boomed through the quiet hall,

"Nickolai. How kind of you to join us. Do come in."

* * *

 **So, the ball scene was a short one. Hope you liked it! Some lemony goodness coming up in the next chapters, and of course angsty angst.**

 **I really appreciate everyone who has stuck with me so far. Apologies again for my noob-ness. Y'all are the best.**

 **#LadyLash#**


	16. The Walrus and the Carpenter

**Super duper adult warning. If you are not an adult, skip this. Seriously. Even if you are an adult you might want to skip it. Gets cray. You've been warned.**

Chapter Sixteen: _The Walrus and the Carpenter_

Virashlav stepped decisively into the center of the Great Hall. His accent was thick, but his voice resounded in the stone room like thunder,

"Albus Dumbledore. Rumor has it you have one here who cheated Death. One who defeated that pitiful snake they call _Voldemort_."

Audible gasps from, then more silence.

"Well, I haven't seen Mr. Potter for some time now. But, I'm sure we can introduce you," it was as if Albus had turned the glint in his eye into a spotlight. He glared hard at Virashlav, "Please, feast with us tonight. Our students have graced us with a festival, and if you will do me the honor, I will meet you in my office."

He was casual, too casual compared to the pomp and circumstance that Virashlav had stained the room with. Everyone's eyes were on Dumbledore as he strode down from the pulpit, Severus, Minerva, Remus, and Hermione following in his wake.

 _Yeah_ , Hermione thought, _you're not the only one with an entourage, Nickolai._

In Dumbledore's office, conditions were cramped to say the least. The headmaster opened his French doors that led to a landing, eyeing the Russian guards as they populated it. Hermione stood as close to Snape as she could without making a scene. It felt a little surreal; each of them was dressed to the nines, and against the Russians' costumes, it looked like two sides of a battlefield.

The visitors were in their grey, short capes - athletic and powerful. But her friends were equally adorned. Dumbledore wore a long black robe littered with gold stars that twinkled independently, his shoulders draped with a thick velvet cape and his short hat was fitted with a golden band; king of the castle. Minerva wore a long black dress, the neck of which reached up to her jawline. Her traditional green broach was nestled in the center of her chest, and her sleeves came down to sharp points. Remus was not in robes, but wore a black suit underneath a floor-length jacket that had a high square collar. a gold bar connected the two sides of the jacket together across his chest, and his boots stretched all the way up to his knee. Of course, Snape was fitted in the finest silk jacket, an impossible number of buttons pulling in at the front. His collar was high and close to his neck, and his cape hung rakishly off one shoulder. His hair was pushed back in a muss of piecey locks. She was so pleased that the Russians had chosen to visit on a feast day. She couldn't imagine having this meeting in jeans and a jumper. _Bring it on._

"Now," Albus spoke, "how can we help you, Nickolai?"

"It seems we have common enemy," the visitor replied.

"How astute," Snape clicked his consonants.

A heavy silence filled the room as Virashlav set his sights on Snape. The Russian's white hair and beard were a stark contrast to the blackness of Severus. He was shorter than Snape, but he managed to push himself up and lower his voice into a harsh, spitting whisper,

"You...you are that Death Eater, _sooka sin pizdogreez_! _Eede vhad e sgadie kak malinkey suka_."

Hermione didn't speak Russian, but when she saw Virashlav's guards reach for their wands, she knew it must've been bad.

"I can assure you," Snape curled his lip viciously, "that I have no idea what you're talking about."

Virashlav didn't back away. He shuddered with rage,

"They say that you are the Devil. They tell stories of you - about your time in Africa," he paused, turning away from Snape.

Severus was bursting with hot white rage. The whole room seemed to bend around him as he held himself back from what was sure to be an explosion.

"It was said that you turned whole town against itself. A mother you cursed. You watched as she ate her own daughters - devouring all flesh on their bodies, unable to stop her hunger. They say that you were chosen by a Marid that night."

Hermione froze, unable to breathe. _The Gift of the Marid...it was given to him?_

Albus looked bored,

"Professor Snape is a potions master here. Now, can you tell me why you have come, or are you wasting our time?"

" _Potions_ ," Virashlav laughed, "that word makes it sound so innocent. He gives _potions_ to women he murders in front of weakling Voldemort. _They say_...these women are trapped in their own mind as you rip them apart, able to feel every unholy thing you do to them. Only thing I can guess," another cruel laugh, "is that you _had_ to drug them! Because, honestly, who is able to stand being fucked by _Satan himself_."

Snape bristled, an otherworldly sound spewing out of his mouth like acid,

"You must have me confused with another, because _if_ I was this...demon you speak of. The chosen of the Marid, no less. Then, you wouldn't be leaving here _alive_."

"Enough," Hermione stepped between them, and she could feel Snape's warm breath on the back of her neck, "Please."

After Virashlav was able to pull his eyes off of Severus, he turned them on Hermione with a cocky grin,

"And who is this?"

Albus spoke,

"This is Madam Granger, our newest mediwitch."

"I see she is popular. Watch them both puff up like roosters!" He waved a hand at Severus and Remus, then, without warning, he grabbed her fiercely around her throat. Lupin looked like he was about to shift, and just as fast, Snape's wand was at Virashlav's neck.

The Russian stepped back, cackling,

"Look how they turn into dogs, ready to bite. Hilarious. I was here, cursing right at him," he stuck his thumb out at Snape, "and still he did not move. I put one hand on _her_ -" he grabbed Hermione's wrist, "and he is losing his mind. Can you tell me why this is?"

Albus shot a fast glare at the wolf and the potion's master, forcing their attention to him,

"She is Harry's best friend."

"Oh! Now it is clear," Virashlav's face lit up, "She knows the one who lives? Take me to him."

"We cannot," Albus said curtly, "until you state your business."

Virashlav strode over to Dumbledore,

"I hear whispers of some battle that is to take place in house of Death Eaters. I want to know when it is, because I want to _eat_ the heart of he who murdered my daughter!"

"Look," Dumbledore sat calmly, "we will meet with you, but all of this -" he waved a hand at the guards, "is not invited."

"When?"

"The Harvest Moon, night after next."

" _Da_ ," Virashlav nodded, "I will enjoy our brief partnership, even if I don't care for the type of company you keep." His eyes studied Severus once more. Then, looking carefully down at Hermione, he spoke to Snape,

"I hope that one day someone takes from you like your kind has taken from me."

Snape seethed as he watched the Russian wizards leave the office.

Albus sat at his desk and put his hands flat against the wooden surface, steadying himself,

"You are all dismissed."

Snape was the first to duck out of the small door. Hermione was too stunned to realize that Dumbledore had basically just kicked them all out.

She followed after Snape,

"Hey," she tried to stop him. She pulled him into a small archway just before the entrance to the dungeons, "Are those things...is what he said true?"

She was met with silence. Then, he grabbed her wrist as roughly as Virashlav, pulled her down the hall, and forced open her portrait door in the dungeons with a load bang. He all but threw her into the room. Ashes protested none too quietly.

" _True_? Is it true?" Snape spat, "Are you sure that you want to know?"

Hermione could feel tears well up in the corners of her eyes. It stung. She wanted to blink them away, but she was frozen, her gazed fixed on him.

"Are you sure," he continued, "that after all these days and nights in my company, after you pledged your _love_ to me, _gave yourself to me_ , split your _fucking_ soul with mine...are you sure that you want the details of who I am? You were so happy to ignore them before, but _now_ ," his voice was at shouting volume, "Now you want to know _the truth_."

There was a long pause as he stared her down. She spoke softly,

"I want to know how -"

He cut her off,

" _How_? How did I slaughter a village full of people? I followed orders! I have been following orders from two madmen for years. These many years of darkness and death and deceit. I never met the Marid, but yes, I murdered them. Yes, I watched the Dark Lord play with their minds under the _Imperius_. I saw him force them to _eat_ each other. Yes, I _helped_. Is that what you want to know? Did you not know already? What _lies_ do you tell yourself at night, Hermione?"

She couldn't take a full breath. She was gasping, and she felt faint. But, she pretended to keep her cool,

"So, you had to do it? Or, he would have murdered you instead."

He was panting, searching for a response. But, there was none. What could he tell her? He could say that yes, in those days he woke up afraid, lived his life afraid, and went to sleep afraid. He could tell her about his guilt and his regrets. He could make excuses and tell her that he tried his best to put those poor people out of their misery, but he found himself only able to let out a dark scream. Snape sank to the floor, his face in his hands. Doubt clouded his mind. _She doesn't love_ _ **you**_ _. She loves Snape the potions master. Who could love you in your Death Eater mask, blood dripping from your hands? Who would be insane enough to love that man?_

Hermione didn't know what to do. She moved closer to him, taking one hand in hers, and suddenly she was hit with a wave of despair. She felt her own muscles ache from the stress, tears streaming down her face in little rows, one after the other. She felt helpless, and the sadness pressed down on her until she couldn't stand. Her hex sealed them inside of a continuous loop of forced empathy, and it was the first time she had regretted their decision to share souls. The pain was too raw. She had the same sensation as if being kissed by a dementor - like she would never see the sunlight again.

 _He feels like this all the time. It's just a fresh wound right now._

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She kissed him full on the mouth. She could tell it startled him. He pushed her away,

"What are you -"

"No," she interupted him, "I don't know about your past, but I don't lie to myself either. I know who you are. Even though I might not know _details_...I know you're a good man and you would never hurt innocent people. Not by choice. And right now, that's all I need to know."

She kissed him again, insisting on it, and he resisted still,

"I am not worthy of your _help_ …"

"I don't care," she said bluntly.

Hermione grabbed Snape's hand and led him into the bedroom. She pushed him down onto the bed, and he sat on the edge, staring at her in confusion. She pulled her necklace off and let it fall to the floor. Her dress was next. It collapsed in a mess at her feet. Naked, she climbed onto his lap and straddled him, feeling his cock come to life. He gave her one last way out,

"Hermione…"

She reached out for her wand and cast a tying spell around his wrists. It was nothing he couldn't break out of, but he let her do it, not wanting to escape just yet. She looped it around her headboard and started to unbutton his slacks. His cock flung free and she spit on it aggressively. Winding her fingers around the base, she stroked him up and down. He hissed through his teeth, shocked by the blood-rush. He was impossibly hard, like a bolt of warm marble.

She pushed his head into her folds, not letting him enter her yet, in spite of the bucking from his hips. Hermione rubbed herself with him, using him like a toy. She felt her wetness spread across his skin and she jerked him faster, his sensitive head pressing into her swollen clit.

Looking up at his face, she could see his disbelief. He had never felt something so soft and velvety in his entire life. It was as if he was being licked by tiny mouths in all directions, each of her folds lapping at him with every pass. Just as she was about to come, she pushed him ruthlessly inside of her, swallowing his cock with her warm body. His arms pulled against his restraints in shock, his eyes rolled closed, and he involuntarily rose up into her as she rode him.

Hermione moved against him as hard as she could, trying to keep her pace in spite of the unthinkable pleasure. She felt herself release into a blinding orgasm, hot juices spilling out over his cock and onto his lap. It was enough to make him snap his ties and reach out for her body, the broken strips disintegrating back into the nothingness from whence they came. He let out a guttural shout and pulled himself from between her legs. Any longer and he would have followed her into blissful agony. But, it was too early for that.

He pulled her down and shifted her body until her legs hung off the edge of the bed, her ass and pussy on display, her feet stretching to find the ground but not succeeding. He bent over her, rubbing himself against her in the same way that she had before, and the wet noises from it only added to her building excitement. Snape leaned over her, trapping her body under his weight, his hand wrapping around her neck. For a moment, Hermione's eyes flashed with fear, but when she realized that she was still able to breathe normally, she started to play along. He growled, staring her in the face,

"You are _mine_ , and I will make sure that the next man who puts his hands on you will _sorely regret it_."

His words were vicious and punctuated, and Hermione moaned into him. Possessive was a good fit on him, and she liked knowing that the man who supported her, who believed in her, and who knew she was capable of anything, still felt the need to claim her as his own. It was an exaggeration, but a sexy one. After all, his aggression was one of her favorite flavors.

"Tell me," she whispered, her voice wavering from the pleasure, "what you were thinking."

He kept his hand on her throat, but lifted up and positioned his cock head at her entrance. It slid into her with little resistance, and she felt her wetness drip down into the dip of her ass, like a squeeze of chocolate syrup - thick and sticky.

"I thought I'd slit his goddamn throat in front of all of them. I thought about telling him - telling them that you are _my witch_. Our secret meant nothing in that moment. I'd have let it spill out, just like his blood."

Snape spoke between moans. His cock was on fire. Any moment, if he willed it, he could fill her up with his own intense orgasm. He was so close. But, he had to see her come again. He needed it, like he needed to breathe. Finally, lifting her legs above one shoulder, he pressed himself into her deeper than before, and he watched as her mouth yawned open in beautiful shock. Putting his fingers against her clit, he rubbed at her folds and fucked her hard, his hips slapping against her thick ass.

Hermione could feel the softness of his coat and the fabric of his slacks that they hadn't bothered to remove. She could feel his heat and his labored breathing. But, most of all, she could feel herself being stretched by his heavy manhood. Her orgasms were closer now, happening in fierce waves, hitting her body one after another. Her screams filled the room with reckless abandon.

Not slowing, Severus emptied himself into her body. His own come mixed with hers in a wet mess, and he shouted out in pleasure over and over until he was spent.

"Merlin…" he whispered, hoarse, still clutching her legs, "you are the most beautiful thing...I love you, Hermione."

She smiled weakly,

"I love you."

He fell to his knees, her legs falling open, displaying her pink, swollen pussy to him. Their mixed fluids were indiscernible, and he reached out slowly with a single finger to dip into her and taste them together. She trembled, her skin too sensitive to stand another touch. He ignored her.

With the tip of his tongue, he spread her lips apart, and he began to suck her dry. She moaned desperately, too weak to pull away, her legs too far from the ground to push back. She was trapped against his hot mouth. He pressed the flat of his tongue against her, feeling her pulse as it pounded through her tiny veins. She whimpered. Then, pulling her body even further off the bed, he plunged his tongue into her soaking hole. He tasted himself in her, a noticeable muskiness that mingled with her honey. Snape couldn't care less about it. He only wanted more. It covered his chin and dripped down his neck, the flavor coating his mouth.

Feeling a little too brave, Snape filled her pussy with two fingers and he licked the small fleshy bridge between her pussy and her asshole. Noticing that her wetness had spread, he pushed a warm tongue against her sensitive ass as well. She gasped in shock, the sensation was so new and extreme, her body came without warning.

Severus felt her contract, very tightly, against his fingers, and a small burst of come squirted onto his knuckles. He dipped back into her as she came and pulled out more of her juices, rubbing them all over the outside of her pussy.

He rose, admiring the mess he helped create. Hermione was drunk with pleasure and exhausted. He lifted her up, cradling her against him and brought her into the bath. Lifting the handle, he began to fill the tub and lowered her carefully into it. She kissed him sloppily, tasting herself all over him. He turned to leave, to give her some privacy, but she grabbed his hand.

"C'mon," she pleaded.

She watched him stretch out of his coat, his muscles bending away from the fabric. He undid the rest of his pants and they pooled on the floor. Shoes. Socks. He climbed in with her, lowering himself behind her, rubbing her neck with handfuls of hot water.

She pushed the handle back with her foot, satisfied with the high, steamy pool, and relaxed into him.

"Was that alright?" He ventured.

"More than alright, I think. It's never been like that. Not even when I try it on myself."

He moaned a bit, thinking of what that would look like.

She toyed with him,

"I usually touch myself here, in the bath."

A louder moan was her reward,

"Careful. Round two won't be as gentle."

"I'm counting on it," she sighed, confidently. She loved watching him come undone because of her.

He whispered darkly,

"Show me what you do when you're alone, Madam Granger."

She could feel him hardening against her back, and she reached for her shampoo, teasing him. She put it through her hair slowly, turning to look at him with a sly grin. He washed it out for her. Then, playing as innocent as she could, she put a little of the tingly soap on her fingers and began to rub her already aching flesh.

Her other hand clutched at her nipple, pinching it and making it harden. Snape took over this job. His hands cupped her breasts from behind, squeezing them together, fitting her nipples in the gaps between his fingers and pulling them up. He began to pinch them between his forefingers and thumbs in big long pulls, rubbing them with his wet hands in quick movements. Severus seemed to know exactly what they needed. He stole some of her soap and slicked it over her peaks, the tingle was followed by a rush of warmth. She moaned deep in her chest. His cock throbbed involuntarily.

He kept plucking and ghosting his fingertips against her sensitive nipples, but his eyes were fixed on her hands. Two of her fingers were buried inside of her. Another two had been positioned on either side of her clit and were rubbing back and forth in quick circles. He became obsessed with watching her. The carnality of it hypnotized him and the privacy excited him. It wasn't long until she began to tremble, and as he watched her knees pull in, she choked out a loud moan followed by quiet, desperate gasps.

"Gods, Hermione…" Snape lamented, "You're going to kill me."

His cock ached to be touched.

"Well, don't die on me yet," she smiled, "I'm not finished with you."


	17. A Caucus Race

**Another warning. Serious. If you don't want to experience the lemons, skip it. Looking at you especially, non-adults. Proceed with caution.**

Chapter Seventeen: _A Caucus Race_

Snape stayed quiet, hidden behind Dumbledore's false bookcase, watching the scene unfold before him. Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, Nickolai Virashlav, Alice Alsgard, and the Weasley twins sat in the headmaster's big chairs, discussing the coming fight. They decided that it should be sooner, rather than later, and that Malfoy's name day would be the perfect opportunity. New Year's eve was the backup date, should anything go awry.

"And you're sure he'll be there?" Virashlav asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Albus answered, "Lucius is one of his most trusted advisors, and Tom would never miss something like that."

"It's settled then," Alsgard said grimly, "The twins will lead Harry and his team through the tunnels, and as soon as the explosion is set, we will go through the back door. The only thing that's hard for me to swallow is that you are so sure your man on the inside will let us in."

All eyes turned to Dumbledore. He responded,

"He has never let me down before."

"Fine," Harry said, "see you all at the Order that night. We'll move out together and take our positions. How quickly can you get the portkeys ready?"

Fred shrugged,

"Three days, tops."

"And the bombs?" The room was still for a long moment.

"They're ready now," George replied unceremoniously.

The meeting adjourned, but Harry stayed behind with Dumbledore.

"Professor," he asked carefully, "Are we sure this is right? There will be chaos, and so much damage and I…"

"Harry," Albus put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "sometimes the hardest fights are the ones we have with ourselves. Think about what you are doing, and all the good that will come of our sacrifice."

Severus climbed out of his hiding place as Harry left the office. He smiled viciously at Albus,

"Not even the Dark Lord feeds his disciples bullshit of that calibre. How ever did you learn to manipulate so remorselessly? Oh, that's right... _Gellert_."

Albus seethed, replying with an equally wolfish grin,

"And do you care so much for the boy now, just like his mother?"

Snape rolled his eyes,

"Please. You'll get your secret entrance for your battle. I assure you. Remember to have my effects in order. I expect her to receive all of it. _Every_ item, _every_ account."

"Oh, that's right," Albus said snarkily, "you've got a new obsession now. Don't think for a moment that your actions with Virashlav went unnoticed. Your vices always were very pretty."

"Say it. Say you'll put it through."

"Hermione will get the estate. All of it. It's already done," Albus handed him the paperwork, "But, what will she do when half of her soul is dead? What good will your piles of money do her then? You fools."

Snape had no reply. He simply put the papers in his breast pocket and turned to leave the room. Albus commented after him,

"Of all the mistakes you've made, Severus, this has to be the worst. That _poor_ girl."

Snape turned on his heel and faced the old wizard,

"Don't you dare lecture me about _mistakes._ "

"Do you love her?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge. Severus ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down. He looked Albus in the eye and answered him, giving him a slight nod,

"And I always will."

Then, the door closing softly behind him, he was gone.

Later that night, Hermione found him in his study.

"Hey," she smiled, "are you ready to go? Moon will be up by now."

Snape kissed her softly, and continued to kiss her until he could feel her relax into him, surrendering to his touch,

"Yes, just grabbing the gathering cloth."

She looked at him quizzically.

"If you're gathering Monk's Hood and you decide to wipe your eye or your mouth with that same hand…"

"Poison," she nodded, "Sorry, this is my first time gathering under a harvest moon like this. Herbology wasn't my absolute favorite."

"Well, you'll have to learn sometime. Can't let it go untended."

She knew what he meant. Can't let it go untended - _after I'm dead_.

They had talked about the meeting from earlier, and she hated hearing about it. But, he hadn't told her about his will. He had left everything to her; his houses, his land in Romania, his accounts from Hogwarts and from the Dark Lord - all of it. She would find out soon enough, he knew. He also knew that their time together was short, and he planned to fill it with the experiences she needed to take over for him in his stead. She'd make an incredible potions mistress. She was smart and quick, great at problem solving, with a memory like a book. _She is going to be fine_ , he lied to himself.

Hermione didn't like to think about the battle. She hated every part of it. Having to go under the _Imperius_ was terrifying, and what if something went wrong? What if Snape couldn't open the door in time? What if Lucius found them, or worse, Voldemort? If anything happened to him, she wasn't sure what she would do. She felt as if she would die herself. _Not before I take every single one of those bastards with me_ , she threatened the imaginary attackers. Hermione tried to keep the promise to herself that she had made only days before - _you won't die, Severus Snape, and if you do I'll just find a way to bring you back._

They set off out of the castle and into the Forbidden Forest. It was darker than Hermione remembered it being, and she wondered if the magic there had been changed by all the goings on of late. If Voldemort was more powerful, did good creatures flee the woods? She wondered as they walked in silence. Carefully, she memorized Snape's path. They had entered on the very southern side, passed two trees that twisted into one another, a boulder shaped like a frog, and crossed one small gulley. Finally, in a sunken clearing, they had reached Snape's garden.

Her eyes adjusted in the low light and she realized that there were rows and rows of plants.

"How did you keep all of these alive? They're magnificent," she marvelled.

"These plants keep themselves alive for the most part. Every spring I uncover them from the brush, and every fall I harvest and wrap them in brush to keep them safe against the cold. The key is getting here before the spring rain and before the fall frost."

His meticulous care for the delicate flesh on the flowers and mushrooms made her admire him even more. He wasn't just a talented wizard, he was a hard worker, and he cared about his potions enough to grow his own ingredients.

Snape showed her how to pull up the monk's hood just so, and showed her what not to do. The aconite flowers oozed purple juice if not handled carefully, their poison seeping into the soil below. She worked quietly and slowly, careful not to bruise the delicate petals.

They took a break from being hunched over and stretched their legs. Severus inspected her haul,

"These are very nice. Don't pinch the stalk though, or it'll be harder to separate the petals in the end."

She nodded, looking on,

"How many more do we need?"

"This should be plenty for the year. I will box them up and leave them in the lab. You'll be able to find everything. It's labeled properly."

"Severus," Hermione ventured, "can I ask you something...odd?"

He eyed her carefully,

"Yes."

"What is the _Imperius_ like?"

A quiet lull surrounded them at the weight of her question. Snape looked at her, carefully deciding how to proceed. He started to explain, but he knew that only someone who has been under the spell would understand,

"Do you know what it's like to fall in a dream, only to wake up with the feeling that you're still falling? That brief moment between dream and reality where you have no control?"

Hermione shrugged,

"Yeah, but I've only felt that a few times."

"It's like that, but for as long as the curse lasts."

More silence. He continued,

"Do you want me to show you?"

"What would that entail?" She wondered, knowing it was better to have a rehearsal in the relative saftey of the forest than to deal with the newness in front of a crowd of Death Eaters.

"You would be under my total control. You would still breathe and swallow and feel things, but your will would be replaced with mine. If I wanted you to lift your arms, you'd lift them without a moment's hesitation, if I wanted you to kill someone, you'd do it without question...and if I wanted you to hurt yourself...you see the appeal that it has for dark wizards."

Hermione nodded,

"Okay, let's try it."

"Are you sure?" He pulled out his wand.

She paused, but then she steeled herself,

"Yes. I don't want my first time to be at that battle."

He pointed his long, black wand at her face, and with a deep breath, he put her under his spell. A smokey essence came from the tip of the wand and she felt it cover her like a heavy blanket. She tried to back away, but she was frozen to the spot. Panic began to set in before she reminded herself that this was a test. _He won't hurt you. Calm down._

Snape began,

"Tell me your name."

"Hermione Jean Granger," the words fell out of her mouth on their own accord. It was as if someone else was speaking for her.

"Come to me."

She walked over to him. In her mind, the feeling of being driven by someone else was so eerie. She felt like one of those model planes her father built, flying under another's command.

He kissed her. Although she wanted to, she was unable to kiss back. She was still, simply feeling his mouth move against hers.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

She began to kiss him and felt as if she would never stop. Even when he pulled back, she followed him to kiss him more. She tried to stop herself, tugging at reins that no longer heeded her orders. He freed her,

"Stop."

He thought for a moment,

"Answer me truthfully. Would you like to suck my cock?"

 _Cheeky bastard!_

"Yes," her answer was honest and abrupt. Certainly not how she would have chosen to reply to him.

"Would you like to fuck me?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to kill me?"

"No."

Another long pause,

"Do you love me?"

 _Too far, mister._ She was offended that he would ask something so private while she was under his command, but it made a good point. Under the curse, she would say anything to anyone. That fact scared her.

"Yes."

"I love you, too," he smiled and broke the curse.

She felt something rush back into her veins. It was the same feeling she got the first time she was on a broom - fear mixed with rage, ready to fight or flee. Pure instinct.

"Gods," she sat down on the soft forest floor.

"Do you see now? It is the ultimate Unforgivable. Yes, the killing curse can end a life, and the _Cruciatus_ is nothing to laugh at. But, the _Imperius_? It's like death in itself. You're no longer _you_. All the personality, all the nuance that makes you into a person is gone and replaced by pure control."

"I could see how some people might get very...brave with that curse," she eyed him knowingly, thinking of the sexual connotations of having someone's life in the palm of your hand.

"It is considered very taboo to perform that curse, even on a willing partner. The risk is too great. I would never command you like that. Even if your answers were _yes_ every time, without your consent the act becomes...spoiled. Repulsive. Fake. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she nodded, leaning up to kiss him again, "But, we might… _pretend_ …"

He smiled slightly at her brazenness,

"Mmm, we might."

Snape picked her up off the ground and dusted off his robes. His wand was still in his hand, and he used it to lift her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Hermione Granger," he said ceremoniously, "you are under my command."

She smiled slightly, letting her body go lax just as it had under the true curse. She couldn't wait to see this adventurous side of him. The anticipation and slight fear of what he would make her do was thrilling. But, as she curled her fingers a bit with reassurance, she was still in full control.

Pleased with her resolved stance, Snape moved around her, circling her like a panther,

"On your knees."

She fell to the ground without any hesitation, wincing a bit as her legs hit the hard ground.

"Remove your cloak," he commanded darkly.

She did.

He all but purred,

"Remove your sweater."

Instead of pulling it over her head, she took her arms out of the sleeves and let the oversized collar fall to her waist, her clothes gathering at her hips, making her look like an unwrapped present. Her milky skin was almost bright in the moonlight. Snape paused to stare at her unashamedly. Hermione's breasts were cupped by thin lace, and he could watch her nipples harden in the cool night air. He gave another order,

"Rub your breasts, and look at me. Now."

He saw her hesitate a bit, and his last snippy command snapped her back to attention.

Hermione was overcome with want. She did as she was bade, and moved her hands underneath her bralette, seductively and antagonisingly slow. She kept her gaze fixed on him, bravely staring him right in the face as she plucked at her rigid nipples. The tingles she caused there were enough to kindle a fire between her legs, and she knew not if she shook from pleasure or cold.

"Stop."

She froze in mid motion and lowered her hands, leaving her bra rakishly askew. The lack of contact made her skin scream. Fighting the urge to quit their game was already becoming quite an obstacle.

"Crawl to me," Severus sat on a thick oak root, his knees spread wide, one finger beckoning her.

She began to move, and slowly she made her way to him, never taking her eyes off his. She could feel the heavy sway of her breasts and she moved with her chest up, watching as he stared primally at their movement. Finally, she stopped, sitting between his stretched legs on her heels, awaiting the next order.

He was already hard as a stone, and he could feel his cock throb. _Who is really in control here?_ He smiled inwardly.

Without giving a command, he moved one hand to her chest and yanked her bra down hard. It snapped snuggly on her waist, leaving her breasts open and vulnerable. Snape bent to suck one of them in earnest, leaving the other to the cold night air. Hermione fought the urge to cry out, not sure what was allowed in their little play. Severus sat back, her nipple making a delightful popping sound as he released it.

He put two fingers in her mouth none too gently. She didn't move. He seemed pleased by this, moving his forefinger and middle finger around in her slack mouth, touching her cheeks, pulling her tongue gently. They came to rest on her bottom teeth. He whispered darkly,

"Suck them and lick them."

She watched his eyes roll back into his head as she moved her soft lips around the digits, sucking eagerly at their tips, pretending that it was his cock instead. She leaned forward a bit, sinking them deeper into her throat, pushing them up with her tongue. Snape let out a ragged gasp, grabbing his pulsing shaft through the fabric of his slacks as if to stop it from pounding with blood. He removed his hand, and just like with their kiss from before, she followed after them, trying her best to suck on them in spite of his resistance.

"Stop," he managed to call out.

She stopped, trying her best not to let her smug smile show.

"Stand," he ordered, himself still seated below her. He knew what he was doing, and as she stood, her clothing pooled in a pile at her feet. She was still in her panties, lacy and black like her bra.

"Step here."

She stepped over the pile and her knees almost touched his crotch. His mouth was perfectly positioned in front of her pussy. He leaned forward and began to suck at her flesh through the fabric. The lace allowed little hints of warmth and wetness from his mouth to reach her skin. She had to focus so hard on not making a sound that she didn't notice her thighs trembling. Snape did, though, and it drove him mad. He moved a hand up to touch her panties and found them absolutely soaked. _Merlin, she's going to be the death of me._

He ripped them down brutally and they bound her thighs together. Slowly, Snape planted wet kisses along her lower belly, finally putting his mouth on her swollen clit and sucking rhythmically. She let out a small moan and he barked,

"Silence!"

The volume of it startled her, and that burst of adrenaline shot straight to her wet flesh, making her muscles flutter together. She tried to keep quiet, but not being able to let the tension go just made it worse. She was going to come very fast and very hard if she couldn't let go of a little steam. And that's exactly what he made her do. His whole mouth sucked urgently at her folds, his fingertips barely pushed her hole open, touching her so softly and making her want to buck into him. His fingers weren't even inside of her and yet she could feel her pussy react, wanting them to plunge into her and stretch her muscles apart. Hermione felt an orgasm travel like lightning across her arms and legs, convening at her wet skin, a shock buried deep within her, and then a giant release. She panted, trying to hold back any sounds, but she felt the rush of fluids coat her insides. Snape saw it happen. Her clit was so hard and then it throbbed against his tongue. His fingers that played at her entrance felt the new rush of come cover the warm skin and he rubbed it along her folds. _Such a good girl, not even a gasp._

He told her so,

"You're such an excellent slave, Hermione. You should thank your master."

 _He's insufferable_ , her smile would have been wide and happy without their little game going on.

"Thank you, Master," she said, her voice thick with want.

Snape unbuckled his pants and freed his cock. He stroked it absently.

"Do you want my cock?" The familiar question hung in the air, reminding them of their intimate moment.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Master," Hermione corrected herself. _Oh, he's good at this. A little too good._

"Turn around."

She faced away from him. Then, a little surprisingly, she felt his hands pull her ass cheeks apart, flashing her pussy to him. He sank both thumbs into her wet hole, the rest of his hand gripping her ass mercilessly.

"Kneel," he barked.

Hermione felt herself shake with intense, primal need. She sank to the ground on all fours, anxious with anticipation of what would happen next.

Snape watched her. She was impossibly wet and panting from her desire. Never had he felt so much like an animal. Out here in the dark woods, no bed, no sheets to cover them, he allowed himself to revert back to his basest instinct, pulling her hips back into him, struggling to shove his hard cock into her tight folds. It was slow going, and the noises that were coming from her throat spurred him on like a whip. Finally, his warm flesh sat inside her, heavy and throbbing, all the way to its hilt. He began to fuck her languidly, taking his time to come all the way out of her only to press his head back into her and spread her all over again.

Faster now, he had let himself fall over the edge, and his pleasure would not be bridled. She was moaning low and long. She could feel her bones shake with the power from his thrusts and it thrilled her to be the vessel for such intensity, such wrath. Hermione came hard as he fucked her, and the soft mucles of her pussy became like a warm vice, pumping his cock as he pushed in and out of her. He spent himself in her, calling her name for mercy, sharing her release.

All the way back to the castle, Hermione could feel the soreness in her core, and she loved it. They had lay in each other's arms for a while, just experiencing the night and their soft touch. Before the moon set, they gathered up their haul and took it back to the dungeons.

"Hermione," Snape asked outside of her door.

"Hmm?" She smiled at him, relaxed and so pleased.

"May I... _stay_ with you?" It was the first time he had asked to stay over without an injury or a crisis. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Definitely."

If every night were like this, Hermione thought she might never want to be anywhere else. She felt as if she belonged with him. He played with her, challenged her, trusted her - and now he wanted to try for normalcy, to be _that_ couple. It was more than the scar, more than the hex. She felt loved, and that made staring down the ragged maw of the future that much harder.


	18. Because I'm Not Myself, You See

Chapter Eighteen: _Because I'm Not Myself, You See_

Hermione waited outside the castle gates in the cold. She was dressed to the nines in some expensive gown Snape had ordered. She remembered protesting on deaf ears.

"If I don't dress you like my pet, you're not going to pass as one," he claimed, silencing her indignation.

They had practiced the _Imperius_ a few more times, and Hermione was familiar with the feeling. She didn't like it, but she trusted Severus almost implicitly. _But, what if something goes wrong?_ Her mind nagged at her.

Ignoring her rambling brain, and clutching the diamond choker around her neck, she had bigger fish to fry. Snape was supposed to meet her after eight and he was nowhere to be found.

"Hermione," a voice called from the darkness.

She turned to look, and she was shocked to see Remus.

"Remus," she tried not to freak out, "what are you doing here?"

"You're not dressed for a battle," his voice was dark and suspicious.

"Ah. No. Well, it's -"

"She's not going to the battle. She's coming with me," Severus said from behind her.

Hermione paused, not sure how he was going to explain their attire. To her shock, Snape simply told him the truth,

"I'm taking her to the party. We're opening the back gate."

 _Oh no._ Hermione couldn't catch her breath.

" _You_?" Remus was speechless, "You're the spy? How? When?"

"Since I came back ten years ago," Snape said quietly.

"I don't…" Remus couldn't wrap his mind around it, but it all made sense. Snape was absent more than he should be. Pomfrey was always stitching up 'little accidents.' He was always sneaking around the castle at night, going to Dumbledore's office without there being a faculty meeting. Hanging out with… _Hermione._

"You performed the hex with _Snape_? Why?" Remus asked.

Snape's eyes narrowed,

"You told him about the hex?"

Hermione could feel the blood rush into her ears. Here she was, trying her best to do what was right, and she was being judged for it by the two men who claimed to care for her.

"Stop it! None of this is my fault. None of it. I did what I had to do at the time and you're both just going to have to accept that," she stood up for herself.

The men were silent. Then Remus launched into him,

"After all the fight you had on the train you decide it's time to take advantage of her and split her soul -"

Snape talked over him, and Remus shouted back,

"...is none of your business…"

"...irresponsible disregard for…"

"...things you don't understand…"

Hermione crossed her arms and sat against the wall, watching two adults in utter disbelief. She knew their emotions were running high, but she expected them to handle this differently.

 _Nope. Nope. I don't need this childishness. Nope._ Hermione couldn't stand their fighting, and finally she turned to walk away.

Remus started to ignore Snape and ran after her, seeing her try to escape,

"Did you ever… Was it all a lie?"

He felt as if his heart was breaking. _Snape! Of all the people in all of the world, it had to be him. What is she thinking?_

"Was what a lie?" She challenged.

"Do you have feelings for him?" His face fell as she answered him.

"Yes."

"I just thought -"

"No, Remus. You didn't think. You saw what you wanted and you tried to control it. Trying to save me from LaBeaux almost got you killed and almost left me with half a face! You saw my scar and didn't even bother to ask if that's something I wanted to do of my own volition, you just started to fix it. If you had _stopped_ for one second to ask me what I wanted, I might've told you," she caught her breath and threw up her hands, "I think you're great. In another life, maybe we work. I won't deny that there was some spark, some… _feeling_. But, in this life, in this world, the only man I will ever love is Severus Snape."

Silence from both of them. Charged, pregnant silence. She broke it almost immediately before they could start again,

"We've got other things to do tonight than talk about this. Like, maybe killing the Dark Lord, _saving the world_ … So, please, let's do this later."

Remus looked angry and hurt,

"I don't want to do it later," he stared at her for a long time, "I don't want to do it ever. I'm a complete fool. Thanks, for that. Have a nice life together, I guess," His sarcasm was vicious and pained. He laughed, not from mirth. Hermione couldn't handle it. She had lost a potential friend all because she hadn't been able to be truthful, and he had wanted something more than what she could give. She was frustrated and tired. They had such a long road ahead of them, she was almost glad she would be under a curse for most of it. She watched as Remus strode away towards the Order of the Phoenix.

"Why did you tell him about the hex?" Snape's tone was bitey.

"Shut up," Hermione lost it, "Just shut _the fuck_ up. Don't act like you know what it's been like for me to hide this secret _on pain of death_ from my friends, from my family! Just so that you could keep doing what you needed to. I have been pushed around by Harry and Albus and _you_ and _him_ and that's enough."

"You're right, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry about Remus," he put up his hands, trying to shed his jealousy, "I know you were friends." He wasn't mad at her really. It wasn't her fault.

"Can you just curse me please? I just want to be in my own head for a while," she gave up.

He hated seeing her like this. He regretted letting his temper flare, but thinking about how he would feel if the roles were reversed, if Remus had been the one to fall in love with her and her with him, it made his chest hurt. That loss, that frustration would be enough to end him.

"I love you," he bent to kiss her, savouring her taste for what might be the last time.

Snape knew exactly what was about to happen. They would go to the manor, Lucius and the Dark Lord would be there. They would wait, and when the twins' bombs finally went off, Snape would have to face Voldemort for the first time as who he really was. A traitor. He would die, one way or another. He saw no alternatives. But, knowing Hermione would be taken care of was all that mattered now. He hoped she would understand. His breath caught in his throat as she smiled up at him. He wasn't afraid of death, not anymore, not as long as she was with him.

"I love you, too. Let's do this," she grabbed his hand.

Hermione raised herself up tall, trying her best to hold it together. He put her under his spell and apparated them to the gates of Malfoy Manor.

Snape whispered his commands to her as they crossed the wards,

"Look calm, follow me, and _be brave_."

She smiled inwardly at the last one. Only Snape would think to fill her with courage before their war began.

"Severus Snape with his companion, Hermione Granger," he told the doorman.

Hermione marveled at the mansion. It was immense and it seemed to stretch into the dark forest forever. The dark wood gleamed in the night, and the windows were all orange and warm and inviting. In another world, she would have liked to visit this place.

"Severus!" Lucius Malfoy came down the many steps to embrace his friend, "and what do we have here?" He grinned so widely at Hermione she thought his mouth would tear open, leaving behind bloody little slits at the corners.

"Answer him," Snape commanded.

"Hermione Granger," she answered.

Lucius's eyes were wide with excitement,

"The _Imperius_! On Potter's best friend no less. How wonderful. Severus, you never fail to amaze."

"How is our newest inductee?" Snape asked politely.

"You're just in time for the marking. Come," Lucius led them up the grand staircase.

Draco looked scared out of his mind. His eyes narrowed when he saw Hermione, but when he realized that she was in Snape's thrall, he seemed unsurprised. Still, she could tell that her presence made him uncomfortable.

Lucius drew his wand and carried a flame in the opposite hand. Silence from the crowd. He began the ritual,

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy the Second, do you undertake your rightful place as an initiate of our Dark -"

"Luciusss…" Hermione's blood went cold. She recognized that hiss, and she knew that low voice.

Suddenly, everyone in the room fell to the floor, loud pops resounded on the cold stone floor as countless knees struck the tiles. Snape commanded her to kneel as well. Her heart was beating faster and faster. She felt like a rabbit in the claws of an eagle, knowing the danger, but helpless to stop it.

Voldemort spoke quietly,

"Please rise, loyal ones," they rose immediately as if they too were under a curse, "Lucius, there is no need for you to perform this ritual on your own. He is your son. You should be enjoying the night. _Celebrating_. I will do the honor of welcoming Draco into our coven."

There were gasps and murmurs around the room. Apparently, Hermione was in for quite the show.

Lucius bowed as low as he could,

"My Lord, you would bestow the greatest of gifts on my only son. I cannot thank you enough, your Grace."

Voldemort patted Lucius on the head,

"The pleasure is mine."

He turned to Draco, who, if he wasn't scared enough already, had turned to stone,

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, first born son of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy the Second, pure of blood, sole heir to the Malfoy estate; do you undertake your rightful place as an initiate into my coven?"

"Yes, my Lord," Draco said without stammering one bit. Hermione was surprised. She was not sure if she would have been as brave.

Voldemort pointed his wand at Draco's arm and took the fire stick from Lucius, applying both to the soft, pale skin.

"Then, as the Lord of our Sacred Realm, I welcome you into the fold. _In vita et in morte_."

Draco and the rest of the room, including Severus, repeated the phrase,

" _In vita et in morte_."

Boisterous applause filled the manor, and Hermione was commanded to clap, and then to stop.

Lucius and Narcissa embraced their son, and Hermione noticed for the first time that everyone's Dark Marks were showing. Sleeves and gloves were pulled away to show the tattooed skin. Marks of pride. Solidarity. Submission.

Snape was the first to shake Draco's newly marked arm,

"Congratulations, Draco. We are in need of more brave men such as yourself, and I count myself lucky to have you amongst us."

Lucius looked like he was close to tears. Apparently Snape had given a considerable compliment.

Draco responded,

"The honor is mine, Severus."

More wizards lined up beside Snape to pay their compliments to the Malfoys as well. Severus and the Dark Lord moved aside to let them through.

"Severus," Voldemort cooed, "always setting the standard."

"No, my Lord. You are our true guide in this world. We would be lost without you."

Hermione wanted to feel something about their exchange, but she couldn't. Knowing Severus as she did, she knew that anything he said to these people was lies.

"So, you have brought the mudblood whore," Voldemort set his sights on Hermione. She was not as afraid as she should've been, but she didn't know if it was her own courage that saved her from trembling or Snape's command.

"Yes, my Lord, just as you requested."

Voldemort looked at Hermione in full, unashamedly inspecting her body and face,

"She is well-made. Pity that she is an _untouchable_. I will be in need of a bride very soon," Hermione thanked the gods she was under a curse or else she might've vomited on the highly polished marble floor.

"Tell me," Voldemort continued, "Does she still lust for you?"

Snape filled his mind with images of their sex,

"I'm afraid so, my Lord. She was glad to come here tonight, but still she is under the _Imperius_ , just in case."

Voldemort hummed,

"Delightful. Come, Loyal One, let's enjoy the feast Lucius has prepared for us."

"Yes, my Lord."

Hermione was commanded to follow. She wished she could run away from here. Something felt very wrong. Her insides were in knots.

Snape left her alone at the table, presumably to open the back gate, and when he returned, he found Hermione still in her chair next to his, but his was now occupied - by Lucius Malfoy.

 _Son of a bitch. At his own son's Mark day no less._

Lucius ran a smooth finger across Hermione's mouth, his breath smelling of whiskey and salty caviar,

"My, my. I had never thought Snape would be the object of anyone's affection. Tell me, what is it that makes you wet for him?"

Hermione was frozen in place, without Snape there to command her, but she wanted to run faster than she ever had in her life. Her lips felt as if spiders were crawling on them where he touched her.

Snape was about to intervene, but Draco stopped him,

"Severus. For my name day, I thought we could go downstairs with your new pet."

Snape eyed him, knowing exactly what that entailed,

"Oh? Were the gifts that I sent before not sufficient?"

"No, in fact, the blond was quite the screamer," he chuckled softly, "But, I've wanted to see that mudblood writhe since I laid eyes on her."

Snape forced a smile,

"The apple doesn't fall far."

They approached Lucius, and Snape commanded Hermione to rise..

"Bow and congratulate Draco Malfoy on his accomplishment," Snape commanded.

"Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy," she bowed. Some nearby Death Eaters laughed, gathering around to see the show.

Lucius looked giddy,

"Tell her to kiss his feet."

Snape obeyed,

"Kiss Draco's feet."

She did. More laughter, some applause.

"Stop."

She did, but she was still kneeling.

"Ah, Severus," Lucius crooned, "this is the best gift you could have brought to us."

Ideas from the crowd started to come through,

"Make her dance for us!"

"Take off your dress, mudblood bitch!"

Hermione was losing the bravery she had come in with. This was her worst nightmare.

Suddenly, Draco's hand landed hard across her face. Hermione didn't move, and she couldn't scream. She was a statue, but she was in intense pain.

"Now, Draco," Lucius mockingly scolded him, "Play nice."

Draco ignored him, hitting her again. She wanted to look at Snape, wanted him to help her, to stop this from happening. But, what could he do? She waited for the next blow.

Draco bent down near her and called to the crowd,

"This whore wants to be used by us. Severus says she begs for his cock every night!" Laughter and jeers filled the room. Draco pulled down Hermione's dress, and showed her breasts to the room, pushing her until she fell on the floor. Her body wouldn't move. Even without a single lock binding her, she was trapped. She saw Snape reach for his wand in his blind rage. It was too soon. His anger would blow their cover and they'd be killed.

Draco lowered his face to hers,

"Look at yourself, _slut_. You probably love this don't you? How would you like -"

A loud bang errupted in their ears. Hermione thanked whatever gods there were for the intrusion. Lucius and Draco rushed out of the dining room to see what had happened, and quietly Snape freed her from the curse.

"Are you alright?" He asked quickly.

She nodded weakly, readjusting herself. She watched as the Death Eaters' attention turned to the back door full of now-dueling wizards. Another loud bang erupted as the Russian wizards broke through the main gate.

"Let's go. It seems that our friends have finally arrived."

The fighting was chaos. Spells were flying above, around, and below them. Dodging them became top priority. Snape was defensive. He blocked everything he could, only sometimes sending hexes in the direction of the other Death Eaters. Hermione saw Harry and Voldemort locked in a vibrant duel, spells spitting out of their wands.

Then, without warning, Snape threw a disarming curse right at the Dark Lord. It was brazenly overt, and everyone saw what had happened. The room stilled. The fighting came to a stop. Voldemort's face was the picture of rage, he panted,

" _Severus_! You would betray me?"

He didn't respond. He merely stood in front of Harry and Hermione, the two sides of the room now clearly divided into Death Eaters and everyone else.

Voldemort continued,

"After all this time, after everything I have watched you accomplish for me...you choose _them_? Why?"

"You know why," Snape's voice filled the hall in an ominous tone. Sweat dripped down his brow.

The Dark Lord had a look of sudden realization,

" _The girl_ …You were in love with her. You were in love with Lily."

Harry was in shock, and as Hermione glanced at the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, everyone else was just as speechless.

Without warning, Voldemort cast a curse directly at Snape's chest,

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

The room spun in Hermione's mind, as if in slow motion. Snape did nothing to block it. There wasn't time. But, Hermione knew what she had to do. Remus's words from before filled her thoughts.

 _...using you...the hex...they can cheat death…_

She grabbed his hand as he fell, and Snape gasped with despair as the curse hit them both, green light moving from his chest and down his arm to hers,

"Hermione, no!"

It was too late. Both of them lay prone, unresponsive, wrapped in each other's tangled limbs. The battle raged on without them.


	19. Until You Come to the End

Chapter Nineteen: _Until You Come to the End_

Snape awoke first, noticing Albus seated at his bedside.

He tried to speak, but no words came out.

Albus moved closer to him,

"There, there. Breathe. You're going to be in a lot of pain."

And he was. Snape let out a brutal cry of anguish. Never before had he felt something of the kind. All of the dark magic that had pulsed through his veins before was no match for this brand of agony.

Poppy was there in a flash, injecting some serum into his arm. The pain dulled, but it was ever-present.

Snape gasped,

"Hermione...Hermione...is she…?"

Tears fell down his face. Albus grabbed his arm,

"She took it from you. But, she is breathing, even though we can't seem to wake her."

"I have to -" Another cry as a blot of pain shocked his body, "I have to see her."

"There's nothing you can do," Poppy protested.

Severus rose from the bed, stumbling and falling on the ground, unable to shake the fire that ravaged his bones. He crawled, in front of Potter and Weasley and the whole lot of them, all the way to her beside. Albus tried to help him stand. He flung open the curtain and stared into her face,

"No! _No_ ," he growled, picking up her limp body, "No, Hermione...Gods!"

His voice was gone again, but his face was contorted into a look of utter loss. He looked as if he had gone mad. Everyone except Albus and Remus looked taken aback. No one had dry cheeks, and after watching Snape, the most stoic and harsh of wizards decompose into a mess on the floor next to her bedside, their emotions were even more raw.

"Severus…" Poppy tried to remove him from her arm.

He fought her off,

"No! Please...no. No. Gods, please."

The Russian's voice banged around in his head. _I hope that one day someone takes from you..._

His continued begging was uncomfortably vulnerable and jarring. Harry and Ginny looked at each other. Remus explained darkly,

"They are in love."

"What?" Ginny's mouth hung open in shock.

"How?" Ron grimaced.

"That doesn't make any sense," Harry wiped his eyes, "Why would she…"

Albus stepped in front of the terrible scene,

"Come on. Let's get something to eat. We have much to discuss now that Harry has brought us into a new era of peace. Would anyone care for a blackberry truffle?"

They left Severus to hold Hermione, rocking her limp body back and forth, trying their best to drown out his ragged screams.

* * *

It was weeks before Snape saw his lioness's eyes flutter open for the first time. He had barely eaten or slept during his entire hospital stay. He forced Poppy to move his bed to her side, and he held her limp hand every moment he could. He was empty. Dumbledore tried to get him to respond, tried to tell him how Harry had killed Voldemort, how so many people had brought gifts for him and her. How he was named a hero on the front page of the _Prophet_. But, his talk fell on deaf ears. Snape couldn't take it. She was there, and yet she wasn't.

Then, today, just as he was about to try and swallow a biscuit that a nurse left for him, Hermione's soft brown lashes fluttered against her cheek. She looked up at him,

"Severus?"

"Hermione!" He embraced her with a fury he forgot he had, "Nurse! Someone! Get help, please."

Her eyes shut again, tight with pain, but Snape couldn't stop smiling. She was alive.

The next few weeks were bustling with people and plans. In their hospital beds, Snape and Hermione tried to rest, but everyone came to see the couple who lived.

"Bet you don't feel so special anymore," Hermione joked with Harry, trying on a smile.

Harry smiled back,

"I wouldn't want to welcome many more people to the club. Besides, you had your own scar before Voldemort tried to kill you."

Hermione looked down at the new scar on the palm of her hand. Severus had a matching one from where she grabbed him.

"I'm just glad you're alive," Harry smiled, "Both of you."

Poppy checked them out of the hospital wing just before Christmas. They were roaming the halls now, enjoying the quiet from the students being gone, trying to exercize their stiff limbs. The Americans had left in a tearful goodbye filled with hugs and promises to owl. She and Snape made their way to the Great Hall. Albus, Minerva, Harry, and the Weasley hoard were waiting on them.

Harry and Ginny were snuggled up, playing against the twins at wizard's chess. Albus's beard was covered in powered sugar from his lemon tarts. Minerva handed Hermione a small gift. She tore open the paper to reveal a medium-sized bowl just like the one Severus had. The Gift of the Marid.

"Minerva," Hermione breathed, "How did you get it?"

"From the manor. After the battle, the house was on fire. We moved you and Severus away, and on the ground was this bowl. We had no idea of the importance until Severus told us just last week. I'm sorry to say that it was marred by the flames, but I thought it would serve as a good reminder to hold onto each other, no matter what."

Hermione took a closer look around the edge of the bowl, and she saw bright glowing runes gleaming against the metal.

"Thank you, Minerva," Snape purred, "You have solved a mystery for us."

"Fire!" Hermione realized, "That's why it wasn't combining our potions. Of course. How could I be so stupid! It's a cauldron."

Hermione pulled out her wand and tried to get the rest of the orange, glowing engravings to show up on the untouched parts of the bowl. Nothing happened.

Her shoulders sank a bit in defeat. Snape gave her a reassuring squeeze,

"We'll try again in the lab."

They stayed with their friends until nightfall, enjoying easy company, enjoying the peace.

On their way back to the dungeons, Snape opened the lab door instead of the door to Hermione's room. She was hesitant,

"Aren't you exhausted? It was a long day. It's Christmas Eve tomorrow, and you know we told Harry we'd be at the Burrow."

"C'mon. Aren't _you_ just a little curious?" He gave her a rakish grin.

She smiled, tucking the bowl under her arm and followed him.

They tried everything they could think of, but not a single burning spell held its place. Hermione had singed the table a bit, but the bowl was untouched by her magic.

She sighed,

"We have to stop. I need to feed Ashes, and…"

Her eyes lit up,

"Ashes! That's it! The fire in the manor wasn't from magic. It was from the fireplace. Real fire, _of course_."

She bolted out of the lab and retrieved Ashes from his bowl. She grabbed him and gently shook him a bit in front of the bowl.

"Okay, Ashes, light it up."

He squwaked.

Snape tried to hold back his laughter,

"That's not how you light an Ember Owl."

Hermione crossed her arms,

"Fine! Do it then."

She handed the bird to Severus, his black feathers glowing with firey red hues.

Severus cradled the bird carefully and positioned him in front of the bowl. He moved the larger bowl next to it as well, trying to see if it worked on both of them. Then, taking a deep breath, he blew gently across the owl's feathers. From his tiny beak, Ashes let out a huge flare, bigger than Hermione was expecting.

"Oh, Gods! I was keeping him next to all of my books. In my bedroom!"

She laughed. Snape smiled, letting Ashes rest on the side of his finger. They inspected the bowls, and sure enough, the inscriptions were now all the way around the rim.

Hermione opened her stasis potion and the left over Wolfsbane. She hesitated, looking at Snape.

"Well," he egged her on, "go on. Be the best. You're Hermione Granger after all."

She smiled, and as she poured the two liquids together, they spun into a small round ball about the size of a marble. It was hard, like glass, but when she picked it up, it was quite cold. She thought that was the stasis potion's doing, but she couldn't be sure.

Snape took it from her, marvelling at the witch's talent. He tested it against the usual spells. He was beaming with pride,

"It worked."

"What?" Hermione couldn't believe it.

"This," he held it up ceremoniously, "is a year's supply of Wolfsbane. Watch how this spell's light turns gold when it comes in contact, now count down from twelve."

She did. Only when she got to eleven did the gold light fade from the clear ball of potion. By the time she said zero, no light shown at all.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded,

"Yes, you've done it."

She screamed with joy and hugged his neck. _A treatment! An actual treatment. No more drinking tea and praying that it works. One pill a year? That's almost a cure._

"I can't wait to tell Remus!"

Her excitement faded quickly when she realized that she and Remus hadn't spoken since the battle. But, still, he sadness over their lost friendship faded a little from the joy of her success. She and Snape opened the rest of the bottles, making thirty or so clear pills, and Severus put them in a box for her.

"I am so proud of you, Hermione," he pulled her in for a kiss.

Later that night, as she lay wrapped in Snape's warm arms, she thought about sending an owl to Remus. _What is there to say?_ She didn't know. Maybe she could simply tell him what she had done. Send him a ten year supply. Give him the whole lot. Then, if he didn't want her help, that was that. He could give them away.

She rose from the bed and wrote a simple note:

 _Dear Remus,_

 _I know that I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but I wanted you to know that I finished my stasis potion for the Wolfsbane. One pill lasts for twelve months. There is a box of them in Professor Dumbledore's office. Please feel free to take them, and you will never have to change again. I wish you all the best._

 _Merry Christmas,_

 _Hermione_

She slipped the note onto Ashes' leg and sent him off. She would go by Dumbledore's office in the morning and leave the box with him. She just hoped that Remus would put his pride aside for his health.

* * *

The next day, she gave the password and made her way up the steps to the headmaster's office. She hadn't wrapped it. It was Christmas Eve, but this wasn't a present. It was his life.

"Professor Dumbledore?" She called into the room. He was standing on his balcony, giving her a strange smile.

"Hermione," Remus's voice returned to her ears.

"Remus! I didn't expect -"

"I got your note and I -"

"I just wasn't sure if you -"

"Ah," he held up his hands, stopping their stammering from going any further, "Hermione, when I got your note this morning, I came as soon as I could. Is that it?"

He pointed to the box in her hands. She gave it to him,

"Severus and I are publishing the paper next month. We've owled the _Prophet_. They sent a reply this morning. They're coming to do an interview. We're starting full production, and we're making them free of charge."

"That's amazing," his eyes were watering, tears of joy streamed down his cheek, "I cannot thank you enough."

"No thanks needed," she smiled at him knowingly.

They hugged, and when he pulled back, she saw him start to apologize but she stopped him from speaking,

"Hey, let's not…I'm ready to be friends again if you are."

"Me too," he agreed, "I am so happy for you, Hermione."

Dumbledore came inside from his landing, and he reached out to inspect the pills,

"Well, when I thought I hired a good mediwitch, I had no idea she'd be curing lycanthropy on her first semester."

She laughed,

"Hope I haven't set the bar too high."

"I'm sure we can continue to expect great things from you, Madam Granger," his eyes sparkled like shiny, new pennies.


	20. Can't Go Back to Yesterday

Chapter Twenty: _Can't Go Back to Yesterday_

 _18 months later…_

Snape sat on the folding chair with his legs crossed, and he looped one arm around the back of Hermione's shoulders. They were sitting next to the Weasleys, drinking tea, and chatting quietly, waiting on the music to start. Harry looked nervous. He was wearing a black muggle tux - much to Arthur's unstoppable glee - and his hands kept fidgeting. Ron stood next to him in very fancy dress robes, trying to make small talk to calm his friend down. The Burrow's backyard was in full bloom. Molly had been charming the flowers for weeks, finally settling on a gorgeous blush pink. All of their friends had come, eager to see Mr. and Mrs. Potter on their wedding day.

Hermione lamented to Snape,

"I should be up there."

"You couldn't be a bridesmaid," he shook his head, "Not being in Romania at the production lab like you were. Besides, she was so happy to see you at the rehearsal dinner."

"I know," Hermione sighed, "But, I'm her best friend."

Snape squeezed her tightly,

"Don't worry, Luna will pull it off. Don't be such a perfectionist. Relax, darling, it's a wedding after all."

Then, with soft strings, the music started to play. Luna started down the aisle, her chiffon matching the flowers blossoming around them. Slowly, row by row, she threw enchanted petals on the ground, each of them fluttering like tiny butterflies. When she made it to the altar, the music changed and everyone stood.

Ginny came around the gate on Arthur's arm and stopped at the edge of the flower petals. She was magnificent. Her dress was full and airy, just how it looked in the pictures she had sent Hermione all those months ago. She was absolutely stunning, and as she started to walk, the charmed butterfly petals floated around her, gliding through the air in a beautiful cloud, canopying the audience.

She smiled at everyone as she walked. When she spotted Hermione, she started to cry a small tear. Hermione grabbed her hand as she went past reassuringly.

Albus took his place behind the altar and began the ceremony,

"We are gathered here today to unite two families into a single household, to hearts into one body, two souls of two people into one mighty dream. Harry Potter, do you promise to protect and honor Ginny Weasley for as long as you both shall live?"

"I promise," Harry smiled at his bride.

"Ginny Weasley, do you promise to protect and honor Harry Potter for as long as you both shall live?"

"I promise," Ginny was glowing, her red hair burning in the afternoon sun.

"In my hands, I hold the wands of one witch and one wizard."

He gave them to their owners.

"They have agreed to make an unbreakable vow."

Their binding was beautiful. Hermione watched as they performed the spell, the light binding their two arms together, finally fading into them and out of sight.

"Two halves have become one. Mr. Potter, you may kiss your bride," Dumbledore gave them a simple smirk and an intense eye twinkle. He looked as if he was about to cry.

Dumbledore raised his arms up high,

"I give you Mr. and Mrs. Potter!"

Applause filled the small garden and Hermione felt a few tears escape from the corner of her eye. She saw Severus judging her slyly.

"Oh, stop," she nudged him, "I just get emotional at weddings."

He kissed her and they followed the rest of their friends into the garden for refreshments.

After a while, the sun began to set and music started to play. Snape and Hermione had been given their turns around the dance floor with the bride and groom, as well as with each other. Hermione kissed Snape on the cheek and told him she was going to powder her nose. When she was out of sight, he followed her into the house.

As soon as he heard her washing up, he waited by the handle. She was drying her hands. He could listen to her fidgeting in there. Finally, she flipped the lock to leave and he barged into the tiny bathroom.

"Hey!" She protested.

He stopped her with a maddeningly ferocious kiss, sucking on her lip and licking her tongue with his. She moaned from the onslaught. He picked her up and put her on the stone countertop, her dress riding up to her hips. Hermione tried to keep quiet, not sure that she wanted to see Molly's face when she caught them in their miniature powder room. She flipped the latch back to lock the door.

"You're a madman," she whispered, unbuttoning his trousers.

"You make me this way," he sucked at her collarbone and her neck like a hungry animal.

Her warm fist stroked his cock hard, and he moved her panties to the side to push himself into his wet, hot sheath. Severus fucked her in earnest, pumping himself in and out of her as hard as he could. Hermione was sure that anyone standing at the door would hear them.

Snape pulled her dress down in mid-thrust, exposing her swollen breasts to the air, still bruised from this morning's activities. He kissed the dark spots gingerly, but bit down on her pink nipples hard enough to make her writhe. Her panting was faster now, and he could feel her begin to pulse around him, her wet muscles tugging on his hardened flesh.

He moved one hand to her folds, pressing against her and vibrating her mound as fast as he could. She came this way, her come rushed to the edge of her folds and covered him like thick honey. Snape lifted her off of the counter and pushed her body into him by his own power, feeling her weight crash into his cock over and over and over. Hermione bit down on his collar to keep from screaming out in blissful abandon.

He held his breath to stop his sounds and filled her up with his rushing orgasm, the new liquid flowing into her like lava, spilling out from her pussy onto the tile beneath them. He let her down again, resting himself against her shoulder as she cradled his head on her neck, both of them trying to swallow their labored breathing. His thick shaft rested inside her, throbbing in time with his pulse.

"What's got into you?" She asked with a grin.

He looked up at her with hooded, exhausted eyes and a big smile,

"Just couldn't bare it much longer. I felt empty, and you fill me up."

"I love you," she hugged him.

"I love you, too."

Hermione and Snape cleaned up their mess and went to rejoin the party. A slow song was playing and Snape took her onto the floor.

She hummed,

"I'm sore now."

"I'm sorry," he rubbed her back.

"No, it's lovely," she leaned into him.

She could feel him pulling at her fingers.

"What's wrong?" She looked at her hand with him.

"Nothing," he stared off into the night, lost in thought, "Just noticed that your hand seems to be missing a ring."

"You know we're so busy," she made an excuse.

"Not _so_ busy," he smiled at her.

She laughed, her heart bursting with happiness as he kissed her neck lovingly.

They danced and laughed with their friends all night, finally free, and finally at peace.

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 **Whelp! That's it! Thanks to everyone who read this all the way through. I hope you liked it. Please give me your thoughts if you can. You guys are great ^_^**

 **All my love,**

 **#LadyLash#**


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